December 2011
8 posts
1 tag
Whistle blower your table shine is mine
– By Richard Taylor
In my mind’s eye I saw from below the coffee table again, its underside constructed for ultimate-fold and transportability. Atop this table, opposite from where I hid, stood a woman wrapped in a scarf and covered from breast to toe in a black jump suit. She whistled a tune...
1 tag
Four feathers and an open window
– By Richard Taylor
Of late I have been collecting the feathers that float through the window at the eastern end of my open plan living space. The feathers seem to be from pigeons that habituate their movements in flight by dipping under the bridge across from my window frame and landing reversely...
1 tag
Saint Petersburg 18/04/11
– By Euan Ramsay
The riverfront of St. Petersburg has a wind straight from a Siberian winter. The wide River Neva flows like a great choppy sea under grand bridges, past the Winter Palace and Russia’s imperial past. My ears burn from the cold. Wandering around, I realise where my awkward sense...
1 tag
Different Wine
– By Lee Devonish
She had to go outside. Indoors she felt the entire day roll up behind her like a scroll and ahead there lay only more of the same, only in the dark. The hangover was hard earned, the headache well deserved. Punishment was what she needed. Whatever was left of the sunlight was going...
1 tag
Bread is the land, the land is bread
– By Maja Pegan
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return to the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shall return.
-Bible (Old Testament)
Genesis 3:19.
There is something basic, earthy about bread, don’t you think? It is vital for our...
1 tag
Black Dust, White Mountain
– By Sera Marshall
There is not much in it: between a pulverised mountain and a pulverised heart. From the outset, they are both formidable. Immovable, unsurpassable, unassailable. Daunting. Although most do not realise the magnitude they are up against. In the effort to conquer another’s heart;...
1 tag
The Land of the Moomins 17/04/11
– By Euan Ramsay
The sun shines down on the land of the Moomins. Light blue skies and distant cotton wool clouds. Red wooden houses with white windows and mossy roofs sit amongst forests and flat green plains. The naked Silver Birch stands straight and tall beside the pine, which glows with life...
1 tag
For Happiness
– By Lee Devonish
Every day
Wake up and say
“He simply did not love me enough.
The bastard.”
Stir.
Repeat.