Hopefully a still, summer vibe in today’s haiku…

Long
Skeins of mist thrown long
over hillock and deep dell.
A summer dawn’s veil.
Continue reading “Long and Languorous | Haiku”Hopefully a still, summer vibe in today’s haiku…

Long
Skeins of mist thrown long
over hillock and deep dell.
A summer dawn’s veil.
Continue reading “Long and Languorous | Haiku”Twelve cans beans.
Ditto lentils.
Twenty bags assorted grains.
Enough powdered milk to choke a donkey.
And then the jumble sale – the canned vegetables, the fruits, the canned meats. She sometimes thinks that it is the world’s worst tombola. They are brought forwards, these tin, flush against the edge of the steel shelves. Everything in its place.
There is a comforting airlessness down here. A silence. Everything is in its place. Everything counted, stacked against some half-imagined Event which would send them down here.
Continue reading “Twelve Cans Beans | Short Story”The strain was beginning to tell on Marcie. She had gone through dry spells before; every author did. This was different, though. It had been nine weeks and four days since the flashing cursor on her laptop screen had edged eastwards.
Marcie had tried every time-honoured, hippie-blessed, sing-in-a-circle-kum-bye-ah cure that internet search engines could be sent to fetch. Nothing had worked. Continue reading “The Strain of Writing”