Upon a bridge I met a troll, his features weary, his countenance droll. His figure squashed into an ill fitting suit, his sharp claws poking from the front his boots. 'Do you mean me to eat me?' I inquired, for I’d never seen a troll thus attired. 'Yes sir,’ he said, 'that is my intention,... Continue Reading →
Poetry – The Worm at the Bottom of the Well
There's a worm at the bottom of the well, that curls in it’s unkind skin. The town around it whirls and ebbs, but it finds no peace within. There's a worm at the bottom of the well and I can hear it crying. It’s bursting claws and oozing scales, make living seem like dying. There’s... Continue Reading →
Poetry – Words like Knives
I use words like knives and slice up your heart, but you must know I love you. I disappear to dark days and leave you stranded here, but your must know I need you. I have bruises under my skin and you must not touch them, but you must know I feel you. I hide... Continue Reading →
Prose – Draomen
Her wings hurt. Fear had pushed her to fly further than she should have. It was exhaustion that finally made her land. Now she sat on a grey tooth rock, chilled by a wind off a wide, grey lake. There was no sign of civilisation. And that was good. Her wings itched. They were dry... Continue Reading →
Take a trip to Zozoville
"A platform for freaks, misfits, and the occasional well balanced individual." This is Zozoville. Zozoville is a collaboration between Johan Potma and Mateo Dineen. I encountered their work on a trip to Berlin where they and the Zozoville Gallery are based. Walking through a small craft market in the museum district, I noticed a stall... Continue Reading →
Poetry – Angry Young Woman
When I die, let the flames grow high. Let them burn me, as they did in life. I do not fit, in this steel corset. I do not hold my tongue, I am heard and seen. I will take, the cake and eat it and grow fat with reality. Don’t stone... Continue Reading →
Prose – Paperchain
‘Dad’s dead.’ The words come from Sam. My half brother and Dad's only son. ‘Did you hear me Kate?’ ‘Yes I heard you.’ I put down my duster and perch on a chair. Without looking, I reach for the notepad I always keep by the phone and start making a list. Lists are the backbone... Continue Reading →
To Write or not to Write (whilst lazing in a hammock)
I'm off on holiday next week (yay) and I'll be taking a notebook with me (from my extensive collection) with the intention of writing whilst I'm out there.I've done this every single holiday my boyfriend and I have taken over the past eight years and so far I've never managed to write anything. The notebook... Continue Reading →
Poetry – Dad
You make jokes that would make 70's comedians' cringe, and wear socks with sandals. Without irony. You're the best Dad ever. Without irony. Thank-you.
Poetry – Ignorance is Bliss
My ignorance of you is bliss, a power so sweet and hot. Infatuation I am made for, reality I am not. My stomach fills with pleasing fire, my mind with gossamer threads. We roam until the sun comes up, then tumble into bed. My fingertips don’t need to know you, each inch is already mine.... Continue Reading →
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