Kings
An odd poem that came out of nowhere. It’s about a time when I was eight and was convinced I’d seen a dragon… With fingers stained and sticky from the … Continue reading
Two of the reasons I’m doing a PhD
A Confessional Prose Poem of sorts. i) Martin came by to babysit. I was three and had heard Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys on the radio that morning … Continue reading
Camille
Sweat and hands and passion shape an uncarved block in his name; his reputation ensured by your devotion. Each success bruising her affection. Each denial inflaming her desire. … Continue reading
Hastings Beach 1974
Ignoring the arguments and the cigarette fug, I rub the condensation from the window. It won’t be long before white noise stops its sibilant assault on roof and windscreen. … Continue reading
Davy’s of Dover
Tottering on the stub and clack, my Mum, replete in navy slacks, ushers us to Davy’s van to buy us fish and chips. The salt and fat and ketchup … Continue reading
Hotel. Birmingham. 19.8.17. 03:17.am
Birmingham sleeps, its illuminated building works, a shadow jungle to trap the drunk and wary. Lost in the plastic and sodium labyrinth; infernal circles traced in brick dust, he … Continue reading
Hotel. Birmingham. 18.8.17. The Treachery of Mirrors
It’s stifling, even with the window open. The bloody workmen have woken me with drills and diggers with alarms that sound like they will break into ‘Jingle Bells.’ Every few … Continue reading
Not Gold
A rucksack, mugger torn, spills a life to the floor. Gathering the remnants; wallet, money, destination gone; no choice but a park bench; enamelled metal and stale beer sticky; … Continue reading
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