Turning Up
You do sometimes run out of things to say about writing. You do sometimes run out of things to write. What do you do then? You write about having nothing to write until something occurs to you. Turning up to do the…
Tag: regular movement
Mother To Other
Mothers stood in the train station, on the train platform. Who is moving away from whom? What is moving away from what? Stories dismantle themselves in one place, move themselves elsewhere, and get to reassembling. The Death Faced Boys are one of…
the danger in poets
burning torches made of poetry here with our heads alight here with out tongue impassioned they say you have to understand offer no explanation expect blind devotion to think that poets are not dangerous may come from poets not being dangerous poets…
english meadows
we are dreaming of meadows where mist clings to the feet by the river the knee high grass the nettles, and the dockleaves cuckoos unravel spring midges mist the air we practice with catapults, old wooden bows until they fill it with…
Working At It
Hit the ground running. Start out the year with a solid foundation of work, and a solid practice in place, and it gets easier to keep the ball rolling. I hate getting to the end of the year and feeling like I…
feathery
i am holding my breath and it is a feather my heart is lighter my head is heavier i look at my description something dusty and egyptian heiroglyphic depiction truth can seem to be an affliction
Convenient
A gunshot in a crowd is a different thing to a gunshot in the country. The acoustics out here baffled your ability to determine in which direction the shot was fired. People tell you things about the country, about the county; people…
Writing New Stuff Based On Old Stuff
I am never sure how I feel about someone writing something that finds its foundations in the work of another. It can be pretty hard to avoid being derivative, because you often fail to understand the driving force behind the creation of…
centred in love
half a life away from the fuck yous i’m in love more than i’ve ever been and seeing more than i’ve ever seen because my eyes are open and i’m making a choice and because of that i’ve found my voice love…
Haiku Division
He is Haiku Division – rattling out fletchette words on the frontlines; mortar rounds. He can see the Long Prose Division a few hundred feet away and he is wondering what they are targetting. Poets are dangerous now. Slammed into the wall…