although this was impossible.

When I was a kid (and sometimes still), i could reach and touch the walls (and the ceiling) from my sheeted bed - although this was impossible. And then, with an advance unstoppable, my bed, the ceiling and the walls could all be touching me. And somewhere still there was (and is) the thrill of … Continue reading although this was impossible.

will i ever sleep again (and if i do will i dream of you)?

in the light play between the john street beeches i thought i caught a glimpse of you.but that couldn't be rightand is only half true. will I ever sleep again (and if i do will i dream of you)?   i am a mystery, as you are to me; but we've both been 23, and therein lies the … Continue reading will i ever sleep again (and if i do will i dream of you)?

the bitter taste of almost breathing

i rested on the handle of my spade and smoked. i witnessed a congregation of privet, solemn hemmed and so cuffed with berries  that even the herring birds, oddly black against the cloud, eschewed with cackles and coughs and with caution; such is tumbling rubbish on a breeze.   i worked a thread of wet tobacco from my tongue to … Continue reading the bitter taste of almost breathing