Wednesday, January 15, 2014

2014:003 Prompts

Imagine trees at night, smoke drifting

A quiet allotment

What music looks like to the bird

We wait at the lights, only fighting when moving

Which reminds me...

Level Crossings, dirty yards

Leaving a note but not closing the door


A quiet pain, insidious

From York to Cardiff

White Hart Lane for the laughs

A Small Good Thing

She follows, wearing dark glasses and a thin knowing smile


The hot-dog vans, the corners running with piss

Boys, blackened with dust

How would it be if we new our half-time day?

Walking through Winchester

Brush Fire

The Complex Politics of the Omelette

Mrs McKenzie

Why I Walk to the P.O.

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