Cherrypicked stories
Dear Mrs. Hamza
I am the lad who killed your son Kuwait 1991 he had no time to parry his hands were not loath and cold for me and my mate Barry if the truth be told we gave him no chance when he put up his hands
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- 673 reads
Serita, I say your sari is beautiful,
prosepoem
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- 1986 reads
New York
Pedalling a freewheel of thought, A cabaret of icons You stand across the water from Hoboken, a glittering knife
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- 1137 reads
Day 03
1771.1 Longwave You've just been listening to Sell Shendrick and the Rubles with "What's My Name? (You Ate My Brain)". Classic slice of note-perfect nourishment for your ears. Well that seems to be all for tonight, folks. Thank you for tuning in, and for God's sake, get some sleep or some drugs. Here to play us out are The Carpettes with "Wrap Me In Paper". Stay slutty. It keeps the population rocketing.
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- 986 reads
Friday 3rd Nov 2006
Everything has it's place. Even seagulls. Not so sure about journalists though.
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- 1053 reads
Day 02
Miffy I have ten fingers and ten toes, all of which were arrested at the age of eight and ordered to freeze. My limbs still bear a gnat's purse of baby fat apiece and my running is a toddle at best. My belly is firm and round like an oversized brioche loaf, my belly button a white choc chip nestling below a flatland. My chest would be the first thing below sea level if this second Ice Age would ever make up its mind about whether it's on its way or not.
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- 992 reads
The Little Venice, Lebanese restaurant
Speed poem about the cafe near the British Library where I get my lunch.
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- 1070 reads
Snorkeler Down, High Adventure in the Yucatan Peninsula
And now, as you stand there splitting two worlds, high upon the aching shoulders of the void, what is behind you is everything you have ever done, your whole life, and ahead of you, glaring up at you, the abyss in the eye of a fish as big as the world and unknown and futureless and uneaten and unloved and all that other stuff and the difference is her, a few breaths between right now and never again, a few dumb breaths between two worlds, just one last swim she said, and as you stand there a voice reaches over from the dead world behind you and all that's gone before, and asks you if you need some help.
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- 832 reads
Appeal
They put up the yellow sign within hours of the accident. It was a serious accident, apparently, at 1:30am on the tenth of this month. Witnesses sought; a phone number given. Somebody, please help me.
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- 2519 reads
1914-18 Camelford Road, Bristol
The confectionery of our lives...
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- 2228 reads
The Caterpillar Speaks in Tongues
The Caterpillar Speaks in Tongues I can see each segment converse with the next, a Newton's Cradle of green pulp, a susurrus and hum of tiny hairs crossing and uncrossing like rods in water-divination.
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- 2077 reads
Saturday 28th October 2006
I blame 'The Double Life of Veronica'. Had I not seen that a few Sundays ago, I'd not have bought it. But I did, so I did.
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- 937 reads
Blind Date
"So which one is he? The tall dark one by the Gents? That blond one by the fruit machine? Coast looks over to where Lynn is pointing. Lynn nudges Faye, raising her left eyebrow. "It'll be the ugly one, the ugliest guy on the row, Faye says, lighting a cigarette.
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- 1772 reads
Heliotrope
Heliotrope. Today I came to the place where I buried you. It is a fragrant perch and this year after all the rains tadpoles swim against its twisting shadow. Wild fennel clings to the banks
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- 2026 reads
We're going to own this bar
I am telling you I put the new firewood in the coal shed and the firelighters are in the kitchen drawer with the bottle opener and the Marlborough Lites and the coupons for money off Barbecue Pringles
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- 2157 reads
The Staines Moor Horror
Something nasty lurks beneath the Coln.
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- 3879 reads