pulling the compilation tape, that she had lovingly made, from the dashboard of his fiesta, he wished he’d never even met her. he sent it streaming out the window. how he hoped he could forget her. this tape contained the kind of music that he’d really tried to love, or even like. but found … Continue reading it’s complicated.
behind a bending fence, bowed and ivy veined, the sad garden grows, unbound, around your father's house. the vicar passes an envelope to you, pencilled with the word - piano - and begins to play something glissando. where flowers grew, fingers potted. ashes into earth and creasing paper: john 6: 1 - 14, we listened … Continue reading a continuous slide.
aired on the evening, his words are battle scarred and breathless, barely heard. but the floor, i note, begins to shadow.
nickreeves 