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My stories
Freestyle
I thought of Pete speaking magic in his leather jacket, pointing out over a watercolour city, talking about the wonders of creation, making my friend blush just with his pro-noun-ci-ation,
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- 807 reads
How To Walk On Water
It was April in June; spring's very own month of non-stop decadence two months overdue. All of the trees, and all of the tangled roots and shoots below them, were erupting in a lusty chorus of wind-tickled new growth, the tick-tock of dandelion clocks and (if you listened carefully) the provocative ripening of stickybuds...
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- 1547 reads
Whispers in a heatwave
I have fallen she whispered; Stumbled across dusty ground, Half full of heart-beats that last forever, Sick with my own silent lung-shreiks and their stiff, metallic fear and the strange black-hole tug at my sinews. Crumbling, she choked, I have held my breath, Waiting gravel-grazed and stunned for a sunbeam to dance over my cheek.
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- 1225 reads
Here I have fallen
Inky black above its blotted angels spit and curse; a heavy sky On the field around us barren landscape drips, drags Soggy steps Lines of black and...
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- 1022 reads
Notions of
for Trois Gymniopedies and sweet sweet smoke
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- 978 reads