I keep the cork from our French Bordeaux / movie night on the kitchen counter by my sweet / cigarettes and your lost lighter, our shrine / to Marlboro…
poetry: Bar Napkin Poem for a Cuban Pool Shark Read More »
The music leaked through the open door and sank into the carpet. With a slight gesture of the hand, Paula invited her client into the therapy room while she lagged behind just enough to breathe in and exhale deeply.
fiction: The Vault Read More »
Sometimes we think we hear / their laughter clambering over / the back yard’s seven foot fence, / while we chuck boredom at the opposite kerb / and catch it bouncing back again.
poetry: Kids at the house with the fancy curtains Read More »
Beyond your window, the drooling stars twizzle on their strings. They proclaim: all hail the monkey god. All hail the bollock-headed god of the ripe and arbitrary. The god of late-night radio phone-ins, microplastics and no-cheese pizza.
flash: All Hail The Monkey God Read More »
Babylonia I am as close to the start as I am to the end. So these are my instructions. And I can’t hear you, anywhere. And weather takes place in the home. Smudge glass to gaze through glass. Clean every view. Grow root crops, quiet, in the garden. Keep an empty-ish glade, snot-toned pollen, a
TEAMS Management Meeting – Shane, Billy, Nile – 9:00 The job is not fully remote, but because no one cares, you are. Most of what you see of yourself is in the box in the corner of your screen. Your eyes are always off kilter, because you’re not looking into the camera; you’re looking at
Survival Game I hadn’t slept in a month, but I kept with the routine anyway. Get up. Work. Wine. Bed. It was the best I could do to take care of my wife and six-year-old son, a survival game that kept a roof over our heads and plenty of takeout bags on the table. Though
fiction: Survival Game Read More »
Grown-ups drinking with friends – a barbecue in may. it’s the first summer weekend since we got the back garden to host in. meat moist as soap on a plate by the grill. I laid it out. we bought too many sausages stickered in lidl and cheap. and too many cheap beers – people always
they all write so well,
but then, they have space
to stretch out in. american
poets have it better
than anyone else. all that undiscovered
country could make anyone
make anything so easily. all that sky…
poetry: It’s easy to say from outside Read More »
Brown Flour I was talking to Mehmet. The chat was dragging out, for two reasons. One, he was lying. Two, the impatient queue behind me was too terrified to interrupt us. In keeping with the times, each person was keeping a self-preserving distance from the next. “Seán, I am not lying to you,” said the
fiction: Brown Flour Read More »