Cattle Call |
Why have you stopped painting? I asked.
Paper, he replied, despondently, lifting the leathery palms of his hands and turning them towards the close pewter sky.
Paper? I answered.
Yes, paper is alwa...
Posted by on Fri, 28 Mar 2008 13:05:00 GMT |
I See You |
Here's hoping yellow-and-green tessellations pass by quickly, so fast that they are no longer a smell but a kaleidoscope that makes my eyes hurt and my heart ache and twang. They will move past so qui...
Posted by on Tue, 01 May 2007 13:35:00 GMT |
Dave |
The Rhythmical Creation of Beauty In Words
Have you ever been sitting at your desk, staring at your computer screen, wondering what it would be like to smash someone's face in with a hammer?&nb...
Posted by on Sat, 25 Nov 2006 20:18:00 GMT |
MY MUM IS AMAZING |
Because she wrote a smashing story and emailed it to me. This is it:
Once upon a time there was a Princess. She had long beautiful golden hair on her head and under her arms. She lived in a big castl...
Posted by on Sat, 27 May 2006 03:30:00 GMT |
Bananas in The Snow/Gorillas in The Mist |
We wrote this in Prague, whilst drinking absinthe.
Bowie is talking to Boris K in a burlesque bar in Berlin. Beckett is swallowing a Baileys, bar frequenting. Bowie is in his Berlin trip...
Posted by on Mon, 27 Feb 2006 12:09:00 GMT |
an ode |
"Love's mysteries in souls do grow/But yet the body is his book."This is the jive that seventeenth-century rakes and libertines appropriated so they could seduce young ladies.
Posted by on Wed, 04 May 2005 00:31:00 GMT |
"Reverie" |
"Times are hard for dreamers," Violet Montez sighed, softly softly, her voice like pale velvety butter surrendering to a knife on a sultry afternoon, lazy and languid, with idleness hanging like a cha...
Posted by on Fri, 21 Jan 2005 09:04:00 GMT |
BLUE CAN ALSO MEAN GLOOMY |
BLUE CAN ALSO MEAN GLOOMY
Storms are born really far away, * sang Davey von Bohlen from Todds earphones as he climbed up the steps onto the bright yellow bus, the kind of colour that fashion maga...
Posted by on Thu, 16 Sep 2004 18:10:00 GMT |
story |
24/5/04
As metaphorical daggers flew across the kitchen like kamikaze words you can never take back or hide with your stabbing defence Jacob looked and silently asked When did you forget how to a...
Posted by on Sun, 29 Aug 2004 09:50:00 GMT |
