Writing | About | News | Photos | Contact

Winter texts

Switch it up with a bit of Rev

09/10/2014 18:47:14

PLEASE EASE DOWN MEN AT WORK. Me scuttling, forcing, pressing. Glum precinct. Icepave reflections. Me potato head. Flagpole winds dent, neon gets winter going. Need tea.

19/11/2014 16:02:00

City-from-above lino. Industrial polish aroma from vast dungeons. Want to get out. So I hide in the caverns after custard cream dunk. Far-off corridor glows.

21/11/2014 19:17:00

Window shoes in the ghost shop. I regenerate for later. Computer server puffs, a big sound in the after-day space. Done again.

31/12/2014 20:37:01

Fingertips reddened, clear my headzone for colder torsions. Everything is done but I will try to remix it after nightfall, only better. Warmth wanted; January beckons.

02/01/2015 18:56:56

Further postings from the laser-pointy horizon-blade panoramas. Sleepsick zoning through apocalypse Tesco sandwich void before eerie train carriage deadness. The streets laugh silent.

06/01/2015 09:10:00

Red, red, amber, green. Red circle. Double amber. Red. Red. Another amber. Red. Colours link the distances. Blankness inbetween.

06/01/2015 18:32:00

Tired brow pillow-heavy. Computer fires shake courthugging miniature palaces. Half-three fountainside gloom descends.

15/01/2015 14:22:00

Beachy slate platform bathed in hi-viz sun.

23/01/2015 09:15:48

Dinky-toy car hedgerow all silent dark icecube motionless. Pockmark lamps, except in the graveyard. On the bluered bus my mind freezes over until I stutter a smile.

28/01/2015 19:40:18

Outline shadow-man looms in front of old-school red telephone box in the mustardlamp cleardusk. Front-memory collage spring pieces. Thames-chill knife. Dull eczema lowtan faces knock by on the bulging westbound.

29/01/2015 13:45:00

FUCK THE TORIES. Black marker pen on red telephone box. FUCK THE TORIES. Black marker pen on turquoise portaloo.

11/02/2015 13:50:00

Papier-mâché morning. Lift doors open to cube landing. Doors close. Empty lift descends.

16/02/2015 16:43:06

Spring perfumes unfurled. Margarine sunblast behind the Tesco stretch, giant no-face girl looming. Coke ringpull cemented in gravel. Shakleton Court: dayend glazed.

19/02/2015 18:21:00

Globe lamp flickering in dusk-window-golds. Phantom workman slides across scene, becomes featureless, becomes his shadow.

03/03/2015 19:14:00

Ghostcyclist works round roadcurve in dawn snap. White-flare pond version of litup skyline. Icecheeked, I tread the night-day divide.

© Copyright 2017 John Maher