Cherrypicked stories
Flesh Wounds
"To see a thing, one has to comprehend it." (Borges)
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- 705 reads
Focalising
The clouds puff blueness onto the orange luminosity, Congregated concrete structures flatter the yellow lights. The darkness of dusk filters shape to...
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- 792 reads
A) I am thinking of
I am thinking of you saying I could come stay with you. Of me asking if you had a spare bed and you saying no. I am thinking of what sort of person I...
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- 1096 reads
The Carpenter
He chiselled the wood, careful to keep going in the direction of the grain. Slowly but surely, the block of wood took on animation. He paused for a...
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- 1108 reads
A day in a life
Fast moving images; slow moving people. An Asian man moves through London on an average day.
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- 652 reads
Z - Den and Joey at The Diner
I have seen the end of the world and it's at the bottom of a bottle. "How's that for a first line?" I say. "I like it," she says. "But where does it...
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- 1617 reads
Little Larceny (A)
between a lady and her purse.
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- 711 reads
Guilt
Guilt An ugly feeling deep in my stomach Like a sharp-edged stone swirling around And if it draws blood then I deserve it I can cough it up and draw...
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- 1514 reads
Idyll
Idyll Mr. Lymph and Mrs. Gusset subsist on a Diet of Worms, discussing Luther till the cows come home in a chalet of seagrass, Bibles, false teeth,...
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- 707 reads
The Haruspex
The Haruspex He makes little parcels of his dirty clothes, wrapping his pastel shirts around the dark, discarded jocks and socks, as though he were...
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- 766 reads
Secret layers
Find me pull off the layers Flimsy skin of cigarette papers Its only the secrets which conceal me
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- 1103 reads
Questions Of Ashland
Karl's Remember Biz
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- 1659 reads
Oldest friend
My goldfish died today. He was twenty nine. When I was six I'd wanted a donkey someone to hug bigger than me but the ripple of fluid bright sparkles...
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- 818 reads
Deep in the Woods
Such unpleasant things can happen in the country...
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- 1029 reads
I Remember
I remember sun soaked grass seeds blown down the racetrack of a school field, where colour surrounds too bright white light of a June
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- 1861 reads
An art to being
On the coldest morning of my life I left a club And walked out to face the frost. In the chill it was an empty earth; My footsteps crackled, I caught...
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- 1271 reads