What did you mean?

When I found you, you were ragged. So dusty. Sleeveless in the cold of your neglect. Though metal-rimmed. Built to last. Bumping through the decades, from storage to storage.   But what did you mean? You were and are a demo. So: Did you spark a tryst? Give words to some unspoken love? Why didn’t … More What did you mean?

Oh Dear Me

I look at me three decades ago. Or you, rather. I’m unrecognisable now. Every cell thrice renewed. I wish I could take your head between my hands, Look in to your eyes and say ‘Your mind is wired strangely. Talk to people about it, in all its frenzied energy’. I would say ‘Swim every day. … More Oh Dear Me

Smoke Signal

It was the best part of a very shitty day. Sitting on the decking, Fin listened to the starlings and savoured his cigarette. The last of the colours were leaching out of the sky, and a bat skittered overhead. He revelled in the quietness. Replaying the argument in his head he drew on the fag … More Smoke Signal

The Book Barn- Part 1

There was no hiding in that place. Not really.  Yet it was all about hiding. Escaping. However briefly. Once through the brittle plastic doors, there was a muffled dustiness within the solid walls and low ceilings which was comforting. Dry and dusty, the place felt dampened, with a faint hint of spice. Noises were occasionally discernible, … More The Book Barn- Part 1

Springs Eternal

Every burning fibre of my being yearns To take your weary face between my open palms, Lift your blinding shrouds and gently Tilt your head heavenward.   Yet I would not, though it pains me. Nay, not for all the world. For you endure, graceful one- Strong, despite every and all of the odds. Unaided. … More Springs Eternal

Sleeping in the Day

It is hide and seek for adults. Blue light- sunlight shuttered, save for bordered slivers. Cool sheets. Head laid softly to rest after a sleepless night. Outside, Gates creaking: foot-falling, letter-slotted sounds. Thrum of engines, Whisps of songs from car radios Diminishing. Snatches of converstion. Dust motes dancing in the light shafts of the window. … More Sleeping in the Day

Knopfler

  I might just  as well just post a hyperlink to a Youtube clip for this entry. I could do. Maybe I should. Mark Knopfler’s performances need to be seem to be believed. Yet to do so I feel would be a disservice to a supreme communicator. A person who has for over four decades … More Knopfler