No one to point the finger
It’s just you and me, and the rain. As it once was, before our shared time spun away in toxic-beauty droplets. No more the red kites counted, the hikes through all weathers, our faces burned bronze...
View ArticleYou make it easier to be who I want to be
What does the end of a relationship feel like? Unzipping a coat shared by two Unpicking the seam stitching lives together Finding ornaments, books, DVDs, games Wondering what belongs to who...
View ArticleLamplight Haven
Another night, and restless feet, restless spirit. Tired mind, when writing and throwing your ego around the room won’t cut it, when the drink won’t blur the point trying to be made. I wish I could go...
View ArticleWriting Reality: Location and Time
Listening to Ralph McTell’s Streets of London, I’m always struck by a particular stanza: Have you seen the old man Outside the Seaman’s Mission Memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears In our...
View ArticleHighgate Cemetery
Let me preface this with the admission that the photos were taken on a naff little Nokia. I’ve used the best possible shots, minus pixel-spatter. Highgate Cemetery. You were once as I am now A dreamer...
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