Cherrypicked stories
JACK AND………..
The green numbers of the digital clock on the dashboard said two minutes past one. Time, I thought, to knock off, have a cup of tea and get something to eat.
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- 1245 reads
An Open Letter To Russell Brand
Dear Russell Brand Oh Russell, oh Russell, let me comb your dark locks Let me iron your y-fronts and treat your sex-pox I shall sew on your jeans so they cut off your blood
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- 760 reads
Double-Agent
counterspy hooked to its medulla, it adjusts this way, that
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- 1344 reads
Bugger Bognor
Performance poem trying to marry the Hypothetical Bus which 'might hit you tomorrow' with the apocryphal last words of George V on being told that, when he got better, he could visit Bognor.
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- 1924 reads
Wooden Heart
Derek worked hard not to be himself. His hip swivels needed to be fluid, unforced.
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- 2742 reads
My Cistern Chapel
trying to write again
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- 1575 reads
American Couple
What it means to be in love.
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- 607 reads
Alas, Bubbles
RIP Bubbles, ??-19/2/2007
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- 1504 reads
Our Darling Jessica
A boy was killed down at the docks today. Crushed beneath a crane. A woman tells me about it as I pour hazelnut syrup into her latte.
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- 1495 reads
I Listened to You
Listen, you said. Please listen.
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- 1377 reads
Raptor Watch
Successful breeding breeds contempt
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- 1031 reads
Errata: Sixteenth Episode - A Catastrophe Of Historic Proportions
Near the city limits, amongst the sequestered grot of the Plague District, Tetradaemon Hetchel Plantagenet Parish dropped his shoulder and rugby tackled a children’s hospital.
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- 1149 reads
The Pie Shop.
Memory Lane leads me there.
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- 1596 reads
Ray's House
Hearts quickening beneath nylon school blazers. Clenching fists held against prickling hips as we reached the creaking gate that let you know you had reached Ray's house.
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- 956 reads
Greeting
‘welcome, please note, my face is greeting.’
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- 1149 reads
o, oxford street!
The boy with the flashing shoes hand in hand with his mum is beating us and our engine and I hate myself for thinking that dress in the window of Selfridges dress with the price tag like a stabbing ha
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- 2361 reads
Heath-Robinson Manual of Repairing Broken Hearts. Volume 1
Meccano Me
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- 823 reads
Have you ever Slept in a Car?
December 2004. A few days until Christmas. It had been almost a month since my mother and I had left our old apartment. We now slept in our car. Yes, it’s true, we were homeless. (re post)
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- 3378 reads
Transfer Talks
a nostalgic tale of 1970s Scottish football with a pasta sauce
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- 2237 reads