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31.05.18 Draft
Two draft versions. A work in progress… I. Individual Humour I heard your voice deep in the swirl of a nautilus shell, heard you laughing in a language I didn’t understand, as if humour was breath and blood. A priest’s liturgy. I often wonder which words leave you humourless. Which mantra unwraps you like…
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for Twiglet #78
Those Puzzles Is this what it feels like to be human — like a Battle Royale with dodgy coordination and reflexes, or an abandoned house or when you stay on a bus until its last stop, or you realise that you’re not Rambo, and you’re not epic, and you’re wood, not iron. Being human,…
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Wordle #353
Untitled He’s like stray murmurs, or a black-cat-fear that hides in black shadows. He’s silent. And invisible. He belongs to the walls. His thoughts tickle his ears. He laughs, the sound skips across the floor like marbles. Like truth stripped from little white lies. Life gets in his way – not living. This corner, this…
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for Twiglet #77
Going Nowhere The best part of being lost is not knowing you’re lost. And I’m going nowhere. The horizon is timid, and it’s lost its colour. Rain clings to the leaves. I might go watch the signets. They’re 2-weeks old today. for Twiglet #77
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dVerse Quadrille #57
Off a Duck’s back Here’s another list of water off a duck’s back. The sun’s glare, and crow’s feet. Rain on your picnic. Anything that’s faux. My memory. Ice cubes that melt too fast. Tepid tea. Armpits dark with sweat. Rain on your glasses. Tip-of-your-tongue words, and rain. for dVerse Quadrille #57
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for Sunday Whirl #352
The Other Side of the Road I remember that music as eagle-light, or drunk jazz dragged underwater, and the Queen of Hearts, as we called her, though her name was David, was brassy-loud, a belly animated by fat. She sang and laughed as the pianist coaxed voodoo from the minor keys, and the barman mixed…
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For Twiglet #76
By Mail I. If I had cat it would be asleep, purring like a rattle or an idling truck, and the postman would bring infinity by mail. II. I put a seashell to my ear, and heard fishermen emptying nets, and trees dropping silver leaves like lizard skins. But, alas, it was just the postman…
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dVerse Brands
Tea and Toast I could lose myself in this life. In the kettle’s roiling kindness. Breakfast’s on the table, I say, and we slip in and out of this hour of idle moods, bite into wheat toast, crunch and crisp as a cliff edge. You read the paper, share special bits or two of news,…
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Red
Red. I am happiest when I’m red. Red. Noisy as taffeta, layers of scarlet, vivid, livid, riveted to vermillion, dripping red swishes, chameleon bright, drawn from the first ribbon of rainbows, where pots of gold root, red as my smile, my fingernails. Red pouts. Classic red. Fire engines. Flaming. Apple. Red smears. Long kisses when…
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12 May 2018
Spring’s Sheen But still the rain beats, streaks the window in strings and seams. The wind is a rattle. Refasten the clematis, I remind myself. Its pink sheen, mere confetti. A string tight to the beam, straighten its list. A lean, bit to the right, a bit to the left. A child’s game. Simple. for…
It's Still Life 