spoke of weal

donate some more american pie, turn out, top-shelf, reward of pliny. rear up and spear, spoon and sprout. and soon send several suppers weekly. she knew there was something wrong with the elders - kids hidden in the men of yesterday's pages, spoke of weal, sopping papers, misbehaviour. put up the hunt was the trick to … Continue reading spoke of weal

The Shale Basin.

The shape of The Shale Basin, soon to be wintered, shading the bed of the Puget Sound,   etching, at anchor, an orbit in the near-frozen water, caught between kelp and canopy of cloud.   Low, early December sunlight casting long shadows, shafting the surface; an ever-complicated dance.   Slow repetition, return and feign of … Continue reading The Shale Basin.

The Pirate Party.

There aren't so many pirates at the pirate party. Mostly, it's just people at a party. Dizzy, though, who I haven't seen since Lemons, him and me spent that week in Cornwall, is stood at the window, staring at the sea. He has a blackjoke, plastic pirate patch over one eye. It has a skull … Continue reading The Pirate Party.

Dim Star, Mojito & Mojo Rising.

Had he never misplaced the mojo, he may, he reasoned one evening, have been able to keep a keener eye on his star. But, he sensed, it had fallen. He came to this late. Drew scant detail. Reason, as such, eluded. He dreamed a nearfuture pocket of his being patted. Mojo? He looked up in … Continue reading Dim Star, Mojito & Mojo Rising.