I am not here

When we first moved to Wivenhoe, Essex, over six years ago now, my compass still pointed towards London. The railway was a thin chain, a line of landscape that linked our new home with our old home in the city. A combination of changing jobs, Network Rail’s interminable bus replacement services, and a general diggingContinue reading “I am not here”

Preview: Scarecrow is coming

I love a proper big art project – one that starts as isolated moments and then starts to coalesce, condense into some serious thinking, serious time and serious work. I’ve just completed one.   About four years ago I went to a Poetry Wivenhoe evening and was encouraged to go away and write something, andContinue reading “Preview: Scarecrow is coming”

100-Word Fiction: ‘Freedom Fruit’

They lift from the hedgerow Light as cobweb and spun sugar A shroud of lace for a season’s going Displaced migrants, the bramble’s other Temporary lover: Jenny Long Legs rise in a cloud In pestilent numbers this September As hands shake the limbs of briar For black berries and rose hips On foraging trips. PeaceContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Freedom Fruit’”

100-Word Fiction: A Return (Sonnet)

Those years – did it ever really stick In mind, this mire of brown estuarine mud? A trick, forgot in ideals, thick With thought: how? why? what? should? There was no habitat here but the past: The sweet chestnut and bluebells of a dream A deluge of deliberations that never last A ferry to aContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: A Return (Sonnet)”

100-Word Fiction: ‘Towards a New Year’

There are people here, but not many. An old man sighs a joke as his grandchildren try to raise a kite into the still air. On the grey banks of mud a wiry bird stands still, too tired to prod for worms with its thin beak. Reeds have been blackened by the winter across theContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Towards a New Year’”