Adrift. What would that play out like in years to come…?

New poetic flash out today, Here.

Happy days 🀩 I had notification of a flash fiction / poem accepted πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰

It always feels like quite an accomplishment, as I know my writing is quite dense and not for the faint-hearted or easily confused. Definitely not mainstream πŸ€ͺ. I hope you have fun reading it πŸ’‹


Beneath the Beauty’

Shall we begin with a Once-

Upon-A-Time-ness? With a metaphor?

A rose in bloom? A sunrise, ripening

shedding warmth along the path to her door?


What colour, that door?


Shall it be crimson? Or soft magenta blush, or

her imagined truth; that scarred, blackened fissure

in sunken, ugly frame, mottled and mouldy

hunkering and hideous, insect infested


Opening though, that door, at the behest of intangible

fingers, and her; lost and translucent with

hummingbird heartbeat thrumming a cats purr

Shall we follow her as she runs and runs? Till

the sun’s too tired and turns his back?


Long ago she’d lost herself amid bracken

lain in a nest of fallen boughs, fled forward

through times dark, light, dark, light



See how the moss, extravagantly green (enough to

make you dream of God and cry) crept over

her whitening bones in waves. She, crumbled there

beneath the beauty, her dust, molecules of forgiving


See how the wind takes up her cause

blowing her free of chaff


So, let us begin with the Once-

Upon-A-Time-ness of a tale


a ghostly impermanence, an elfin soul running

backward-backward, each breath stealing a year

Let us watch till she is nothing but sound

that hummingbird heartbeat thrumming


thrumming, till the space she leaves becomes her

Bad Seed

A new painting in progress. And while I juggle with a few writing projects, Nick (of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds notoriety) is giving me a bit of much needed meditation…

I’m going to try and leave this one partially undone, as it’s not a commission and I can just please myself (much like the one behind… being painted on an old internal door, my new favourite surface). 

Artwise I’d already made the decision to just paint for myself, as the fiction writing will invariably have to be tampered with by others, and that’s fine, I’m happy with that. It’s something that requires me to be at the mercy of outside forces. Beta readers, editors, publishers. The market. And I’m prepared for that, but only because I still have something that nobody can touch and I don’t have to care if anybody else likes it, or ‘gets’ it. No artist ‘statement’ required… Not for this kid