Cherrypicked stories

The air holds its breath and the day is still. The sun hangs on wire, stationary. Clouds and birds wait in awe for the right to be. Time has no place...

Portrait of the Artist as a Mince Pie The snow happened at 11.13 and I felt that pieces of you were falling around my car, like a tickatape parade,...

Demented son.

That?s me

my earliest memory

DOES TIME REALLY RUN IN A STRAIGHT LINE&;#063;

From London to London.

qoth the Raven, he is nevermore...

in her handbag delicately wrapped in things that belonged to her. in the Four Elements. the larcenies glow like roots. Barium loosens the silt and...

because there is a such thing as need, some are needed and some are having fits; some are daunting, dwindling. Accumulate, Ferment. I'll tell you...

December 25

I'll get you Butler

In the warm of radiators and supper cooking I cut tissue paper, stick rainbow layers onto white: my Christmas present for you. I love the swish of...

for Marcel Marceau

when he doesn't love you

Ditchling, UK - 22 January 1971, a haiku

no cats allowed

Monday morning in a South Western French town

New Journeys

william in mexico

We eat each other every day, piece by piece.

Beauty and the beast

Happy Hour

She dropped subtle hints Like boulders falling from the sky My head was dented Bruised with her intent So I spent two months wages and Bought her the...

Under the sea lies a brothel of sorts Where favours from Sirens and Mermaids are bought By Dolphins and Porpoise who hide from their lives By straying a moment away from their wives, The customers barter the cost with the whores One seashell, two and a fin full of spores An octopus shudders and lets go his ink While the shark goes upstairs with a nod and a wink, And all of the time in a room at the rear Sits the pimp-fish just grinning from tail-fin to ear As he counts all the seashells and coral and pearls That are earned by his Mermaids and Sirens and Girls, Fifteen rooms in the brothel - a dungeon as well And if they could talk oh what tales they would tell They would speak of old Jonah who once wandered in To be swallowed by Whales who were working within, They'd tell you of Neptune who's tripod was sunk Into many a Mermaid when he came in drunk, They'd talk of dear Nero who'd oft' moor his craft At the side of the brothel whilst fixing his shaft And of Blackbeard the pirate who always would spend Every Monday in bed with a young Mermaid friend, The brothel is known from the North Pole to South It's fame spread by seamen and by word of mouth All in the oceans have heard of it's name This brothel, this whorehouse this place of the game Yet up on the land where the rest of us are It's just an aquatic, seabound shangri-la For if it was known that this place did exist The humans would wreck it each time they got pissed So though we have seen it we must never talk Of this place 'neath the ocean where fish pop their corks We must keep it a secret between you and I Like tales of our childhood and pie-in-the-sky, Let's head for our home now and leave this behind The Dolphins and Porpoise and whores of all kinds Lets leave them in peace in this brothel of sorts Where favours from Sirens and Mermaids are bought While all of the time in a room at the rear Sits the pimp-fish just grinning from tail-fin to ear As he adds up the pears and the coral and spores That are earned by his legendary, talented whores.

Kandinsky painted music. He had a medical condition : SAW the notes as he heard them, the same every time, in a box before his eyes he echoed in...

Sleep tight through biting bruising rainbow rosed tattooed tears dawn curtains reveal long ago wishes seedlings on glazed dew will sparkle you to love

&;#8230;&;#8230;..&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;.......... d o n o t&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;.. &;#8230;...

A sequence of coincidences.