H-A-T-R-E-D

...queer chunks Of garbage...

For Glenn Gould

Your touch unfolds, sound by sound, delicate pebbles that build something unmovable. I listen to the first Aria, the one that sang to a king, it is first loss,

The Black Hawk Banner - Chapter Two

In which a spell of forgetfulness is cast, we learn what Ormst can't forget, and a forgotten book called 'The Use of Magical Items' turns up.

summer poem

Summer Poem A balsam raft, with a mast and a Latin sail, I built for amusement on summer days on the inner sea, but I found myself too far from shore, daydreaming

My book is boring

Today I turned on Radio 1.

After the Rain

After the Rain After the rain everyone has new cars clouds slide across their roofs silk slips of skybright and shadow the tops of flagpoles are collaged with tinfoil

As I Lay Dying In Reno

"It ain't dying, it's growing!" he said.

You Don't Know Jack.

fairy tale told

Nevernever Should Be Land

There are no words for some kinds of loss.

Coffee with Ronnie.

Ronnie had got his order wrong. He was having none of that. Mr Iqbal, shaking with bit-back rage, surveyed the smashed glass and pooling booze aftermath of the four-minute blitzkrieg.

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