hescho peech

I took my pen from a pocket and, for no reason that I could comprehend, blacked out several letters in the headings and, with not a notion of Situationist or cut-up theory, but with an urgent and divine energy, The School Speech became he Scho peech, which, in turn, instinctively, could not become anything but … Continue reading hescho peech

The Empty Benches.

The dogs, marking sand with brief print, ancient scratch-language, lengthen and, boundless, plunge at the cones of surf, smashing them, barking. * A lone figure travails the blown beach. He drags a suitcase. He looks up from his feet and seems surprised to find another living here and, as we pass, I see that the … Continue reading The Empty Benches.

The Village Collegiate Xmas Do.

‘The Village Collegiate Xmas Do Will be held this year in the Bingo Hall. Festivities will commence at half two On Black Eye Friday – come dressed for a brawl.’ * The sign on the wall of the faculty was surprising to see to say the least - last year’s do ending so tragically with … Continue reading The Village Collegiate Xmas Do.

An Easy To Moderate Climb.

'An easy to moderate climb', the guidebook promises. But, halfway up Catbells' spine, she turns to me and says, "I cannot carry on." * We had followed in footprints of dead Roman legions. I'd seen her walk on her hands on Tynemouth beaches. But she cannot carry on. We measured maps by millimetres, drank goats' … Continue reading An Easy To Moderate Climb.

Ether is the new lozenge

Ether is the new lozenge; you'll find it labelled under lounge. In the library they are reading Boudicca's Cumbrian Crown. Her heart is on her sleeve semi-colon her art is in her mouth full stop * The headlines made the locals cry; "I couldn't breathe for ether." "It breaks your effing heart, it does. What … Continue reading Ether is the new lozenge

It’s becoming something

It's becoming something of a thrill to find the kettle partially filled, thus saving me the long haul to the faucet. I walked midweek to Whitley Bay and though I never planned it this way, on a whim, I spent a wage on a wooden spoon, some loose tea, "half a dozen of those fancy … Continue reading It’s becoming something