Anchorhold

I am framed through the hagioscope, but this is not your prison. They walled you in with freedom, and you sang your own death, and spread pity on all the words that followed. They all want saving but they’re not yours to save. One foot embedded in ancient stone, the other pointed as you rise.... Continue Reading →

Stone Cold Toad

Observe if you will the subject, the glass across her shows, a clear-cut image of the creature inside, the gluttonous stone-cold toad. See how it sits in the darkness, concealed in the subjects gut, with limbs of purple and emerald green, with eyes sewed firmly shut. You'll note from its mouth emerges, two protuberances of... Continue Reading →

Aged Thirteen and Late in Bed

(Written at 13, re-written at 20 and found in the archives at 30-and-a-bit) Aged thirteen and late in bed, I realised that one day I’d be dead. My stomach gave a sudden jolt, and in me found a strange revolt, against the idea of ever ending, and I wondered about bending, time around me so... Continue Reading →

Wide-Mouthed Jack

We open up on Wolfies's wife, and her sad, string-tugging tale, of her fine, old husband cut stone dead, of babes to feed and bills in the mail. And Wide-mouthed Jack catches all those tears, counting the figures on his glinting fingers, while the watchers wait impatiently, talking about trash and half-done singers. Enter now the Little... Continue Reading →

Poetry – The Doll

The scratching became a tapping, that soon became a crying, I heard the voice inside me, in my bedroom down below. ‘Mice,’ said my mother, clucking, so my father got to trapping, and I waited for the screaming, in my bedroom down below. A doll found silent sitting, like the bride forever waiting, they called... Continue Reading →

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