So I knew Su, we were kinda friends. We’d met as members of a group of people who got together in a cafe twice a month. We were writers, we weren’t professional, fully fledged writers, but Su and I were two people writing stories and poems who sometimes thought to compare ourselves to writers. With a view to help bolster this belief, we attended a collective of like-minded folk. Continue reading “Su, ‘nam, me.”
Promoted by the New York Boyer Foundation, inviting anyone to participate in an international art exhibition.
Exhibition runs through November 2018 at the New York Public Library Hudson Park Branch.
The theme and media are open/free, dimensions, maximum size 8.5″x11″ (22cm x 28cm). Continue reading “NEW YORK – BIG APPLE IV: MAIL ART SHOW”
the sound of the A40,
off-white noise. Continue reading “A40 Trunk Road”
The sun glared down from a clear sky onto a grassy knoll at high noon, on a hot mid-summer’s day. Aster, transient Empress Taraxacum Dandeliona, surveyed her vast weed army spread out before her. Already, white seeds sprouted amongst her bright yellow petals, indicating the completion of her life-cycle drew near. Soon, her seed distribution would begin and with it her reign pass on. Continue reading “the rise of the dandelions”
Located in my usual cafe, I’m sat at a table to the rear of the dining area, feeling hungover, waiting for my English fried breakfast to be served. In this fogged state of mind, I am unable to maintain the necessary chemical synaptic connection between thought and action. With the signals blinking on and off, my eyelids drawn half-down works best for now. Continue reading “vapid escalation”
Max: Patrice, Patrice! Good God man, provide me with your assistance!
Patrice: Nothing else matters now Max… Nothing, else, matters…
Max: Patrice! Help me drag poor Marcel to safety. It did not work, he is close to death! You said the waters held healing powers. It is bullshit Patrice, complete bullshit! If you don’t help me right now, I swear I will kick your ass and hold your head under the water until you yourself are healed!
Patrice: …I am in love with this woman, Max. Her name is Bernadette Soubirous. Continue reading “Max Ernst’s “Une Semaine de Bonté: Lundi, l’eau” (writing prompt)”