Enema
Fran never could stop craving the paint lid pop relief of asking the right question. On the phone to friends Fran pulls reasoning calf tomatoes out of can tins
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- 1166 reads
A New Year Message
For the past three days I have been editing the final chapter of ‘The Penguin Variations’. So I am finishing it as the year ends. It’s been a good year.
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- 2126 reads
Smoke outside
Run your keys in cold water wait for the grack of the lock and then in the pub flip beer mats smoke outside like James Dean hold open the door as all the hairpin excuses you ever made
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- 1005 reads
The loss specific
The loss specific Grief hideous and nicotined he is pencil ringed with marking martyrs. It’s the starched things get the guttering golluming, so we’ve stopped changing the sheets
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- 1013 reads
A Flame into Being
A languid sigh and the luxury of motion as you rise up from stillness and silence shrugging off your redundant clothes all at once, like a cat washes off winter by a warming fire.
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- 1664 reads
Page Found On A Tube Station Platform
It looked like it had fallen from a well-thumbed book; at least it hadn't been the last page of a commuter's escape route. I wonder what the rest of the novel was like?
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- 1555 reads
The Answer is 8 Down
Think about it... Yes, it's an acrostic!
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- 1599 reads
“A Room? Why....”
Panklush now has her own room. Not just a room. A full apartment. It is not a big one—a 10' X 12' room, a kitchen, a bathroom, a closet, which in Panklush's mind, could pass for a very small room.
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- 814 reads