Local Colour
A mealy mouthed bird With hair so absurd I thought she was a he cross dressed Throws words like punches In garbled bunches She has so much to get off her chest Across the wide bar
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- 4 comments
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- 2572 reads
november 23rd
When there is a nuclear accident, far away the first sign is mutation.
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- 1329 reads
Dans nos obscurités
Blue night party, sloped into gardens small groups gathered under flares; glasses clinked, voices hushed down. I moved along paths shiny with stones - pocked stars, barn owl white.
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- 1 comment
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- 2256 reads
The Angel of Mons - Chapter fifteen
Fifteen
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- 811 reads
Blood on my hands
New Writing Season Competition - Prose
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- 2 comments
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- 2603 reads
Cut out my heart
New Writing Season Competition - Poetry
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- 3 comments
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- 2385 reads
Tranquillized
Highly commended in the poetry section of the New Writing competition.
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- 2 comments
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- 860 reads
Undressed
My ex wife sitting naked on the bare stone floor, smoking my cigarettes, listening to the songs of Leonard Cohen. It’s the coolest thing that I’ve ever seen. There has been no sex.
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- 2 comments
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- 2409 reads
In Nativitate Domini
In a silence so deep it were As though a thousand, thousand angels
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- 620 reads
Magic Kingdom
Ned Vasey walked into Disneyland with a Yellow-Billed Hornbill in a cardboard box that read tinsel and lights.
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- 1 comment
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- 969 reads