every lessen
every lesson a dull head learns is something that a dull heart earns in the field the body burns narrow in the fallow until the crop returns flowers nodding seeds into the breeze colours bright amidst the dance of bees we were…
Tag: writing
the wait of unknown soldiers
the weight of unknown soldiers here on unknown shoulders shrugging up from climates that are colder and seem more so as we grow older dead stories in a manila folder all the fields of fossilised truth not run away; that raintrap youth…
Unspool
Heat scatter. Atmosphere leak. They were being buffeted around; bodies being littered into the vacuum. Hunters in hot pursuit. Trying to fire up impromptu transit gates in an overly active theatre was a recipe for shrapnel spread. Hague punched the anchor-stutter button,…
past gravity
pick up the slack the let loose chaos a handful of dusky blooms cast across the floor to cushion the light footfall we were inside the barrier looking at the weather front the rain-blurred line and the impromptu shrine children arriving in…
A Simple Man
A simple man born into a time where people are not the same. Technology snakes its way through the umbilical and implants, unless like him you are born in a blackout. His mother’s friend-or-foe signal box failed to recognise him on several…
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…
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…