He hid the warm bike in the tall grass, among the trees, just shy of the flood-lit forecourt. He climbed a five-bar gate & walked the dark field until he felt he had a story straight. He smoked the last inch down to the roach. He pissed & spat into a Belfast sink he … Continue reading A Near-Dave Experience.
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 middle brother was a sleepwalker. He could be found surrounded by quarter eaten easter eggs, or marooned on an ocean of ripped wrapping paper. We camped the wild garden at the cliff edge. Tarp strung between beech trees, and he, ankle-strapped to me. One xmas morning, Santa and then, somehow, mother, found him … Continue reading Framed.
It was chalked on the bog wall and spread quickly round school - a whisper to a chant in the playground. “Pippin’s mum’s only got one tit!” Odd. • We’d played darts at Pippin’s last summer. The house on the corner, halfway up Steep Street. I kept score. We smoked his mum’s cigarettes, drank his … Continue reading Withered Apples.
We are waiting for the driver to finish his smoke. He paces the concrete. The bus is half-full. There is quiet chat and nobody grumbles. This is how it is in a small seaside town. The bus service is limited. It is a luxury. We wait with our bags of shopping. We wait with … Continue reading Seagull Sips Cappuccino
"The woman next door rents out to lodgers." It’s interesting how things crop up on the radar. My neighbour downstairs (he plays piano) mentioned this as I was cutting his hair. It was starting to get in his eyes. He must have been talking about comings and goings, or Collingwood Road, or lamenting Penn Beacon … Continue reading A Box of Crows.