A Pale Airman.

Perched on a bough in a black alder tree, trench rot soaking his booted feet, armpits and groin and tunic unkempt, teeming, a pale airman watched two strangers beneath. They were stood in shirt and tie, pinstripe beneath mackintosh and tucked into black rubber boots, ankle-deep in the river he knew to be the Quaggy, … Continue reading A Pale Airman.

Fondness for attics.

The photo has faded since last I looked. I thought, this only happens in films and books. "He had a fondness for attics," said the rook. Still tells tales, 6x4, a little stained. The boys' names were, Eenie, Meanie, Minnie, Moe, Daniel, Luke and me. Fish fingers and ice-cream cones. Content in wellies. Similarly, it … Continue reading Fondness for attics.

‘Photocopy of a Snapshot in the Mirror Frame’ [published at Free Verse Revolution]

My piece 'Photocopy of a Snapshot in the Mirror Frame' (and two other prose/poetry pieces) are featured in this edition of the excellent Free Verse Revolution magazine. This piece, as with all my work to some or no small extent, is based on both a true story and a real photocopy of a snapshot in … Continue reading ‘Photocopy of a Snapshot in the Mirror Frame’ [published at Free Verse Revolution]