Paris is for Lovers. Paris is for Jazz Guitarists, Saxophonists, Seine-side Artists Paris is for Wayward Poets, Lost Composers Modern Stoics. Paris is for Nuns and Sinners Students, Bankers, New Beginners Paris is for Virgin Marys Whores and Revolutionaries, Singers, … Continue reading »POEM: Paris is for Lovers
If you think of me, think of me in low light and filters With a glass of something louche and smoky-green And Cohen playing whiskey-voiced beneath the window. Think of me graciously. Raving and obscene I am but … Continue reading »POEM: In Low Light and Filters
“The Dark Bookcase.” Such a good title for some mystery or ghost story! Can’t you picture something tall in old, dark wood, maybe hiding a secret passageway, maybe haunted by a ghost in some old manor house? I am overcome, my … Continue reading »“The Dark Bookcase”
It has come to be that I spend far too little time reading. I enjoy reading, but I never seem to find the time in the day in which to do any. My pile of bought-but-not-yet-read books grows ever larger, … Continue reading »The Tree Fort Irregulars
God, don’t you ever feel like you’re wasting your life? I don’t know what I’m meant to be doing – travelling, experiencing, or whatever – but whatever it is I’m not doing it. I don’t feel like I’m living in … Continue reading »Some Thoughts on Wasting Time
The road at night: an isolating, howling loneliness of endless, empty, deserted suburbia; the plastic, retro loneliness that papers over rot The streetlights cast their orange gleam onto the black asphalt, their purpose to give shape to the shadows … Continue reading »POEM: Perdition
They’re hideous clichés. They feel the shame of it, the sour tang of guilt every time they indulge themselves in something they love. They are self-conscious. Aware of the rôles in which they find themselves to the point where their … Continue reading »PROSE: Stages
She pressed her red lips to the stone. There was a “click” as he pressed the shutter. She saw his grin when he had lowered the camera, and grinned back. “Can I take one of the mark?” he said. “Sit … Continue reading »PROSE: Kisses
Ah! my love, the soldier-boy We follow him, for a time. When he falls, rises, falls once more, We pause. Alight. And watch to see If he will rise again. My little soldier, ever fighting on. You may sleep, … Continue reading »POEM: Sweet Soldier
I’ve been finding it hard to write lately. Hard to start new poems or short stories, hard to put my faith in ideas. Hard to churn out a meagre 350 words a day on a new novel I’ve started. I … Continue reading »Small Pieces, Small Progress