Synopsis and Shoes →
over at the blog today I got to ask all kinds of questions about writing a synopsis to the really rather super Nicola Morgan. A must-read for anyone who wants a publisher.
Monsters There are monsters on our streets. I’ve seen their footprints, Seen hints behind smoked glass, Seen glints on paths Like shards of broken condoms in the aftermath. I’ve seen houses boarded, Seen hoardings placarded with warnings, And heard stories whispered on street corners. I’ve seen the evidence they leave, The detritus and the dross each morning, The lonely and the lost, The...
I wrote a card today. It was to the parents of a friend whose funeral is being held tomorrow. She took her life just before Christmas by throwing herself in front of a train. How do you begin to write under those circumstances? It’s been weighing on me for days. I caught myself, this morning, thinking “this is too difficult,” and then I thought about her parents, and the husband...
What Happens If I Push That One? →
The lovely Workshy Fop lets me talk about the importance of Trying. New. Things
Words to go with the video you can find here Her body Was the canvas where you painted your myths In come and similes and piss The focal point of all your bliss The only part of her you’ll ever miss Her body Will be a vanishing point in the desert A line in the sands of time Running through your hands The silken strand That drags your eyes To the horizon Where your future stands The...
After She Stopped
“You could look at it forever, couldn’t you?” It was my first visit to the Hilbert Gallery. I’m not sure why I was there. Maybe it was raining outside. Maybe there a meeting I needed to miss. Looking at the screen, I thought the words were part of the exhibition. I stood there staring at images that seemed to change every ten seconds or so, wondering how much of my life would be too much to...
I was told yesterday that a former colleague took her life shortly before Christmas. We weren’t very close friends, but we were certainly friends, and close enough to have been out drinking more than several times. This is an old poem of mine, but posted here for the first time, and for her. And a reflection, because we always wonder at times like this what we could have said, or whether we...
Live Bed Show
You picked me up over espresso in Bar Soho, cut me open, and found neon glowing through my veins and as I bled the blood that flowed formed pools that spelled Live Bed Show
The words to the previous video Alibi When you fail, you cry Because you believed the lie That if you try With all your might If you pursue a single line of sight Looking neither to the left nor right, Ignoring the distractions and delights There is no height You cannot reach So when you don’t You’re the failure, right? Not them. Your dreams provide their alibi. But I know there are things I’ll...