Place

Place

There used to be water in Cali­fornia; snow­melt rushing through rav­ines to coalesce laugh­ingly as lakes and lagoons and other summer indul­gences. That was long away and far ago, in some strange before time when the land wasn’t riven with cracks and the heat had...
Words

Words

Rough-cut paper tells you it’s a first edi­tion and the must takes you back — Years spent, nose down. Ink-smudges and foun­tain nibs, the romance Of Umberto Eco and sharp-edged medi­eval scores. There’s a deep Con­nec­tion through time to these...
Flamenco

Flamenco

Long fin­gers and silver rings; that rhythm; that flight Of fore­finger down a string; that tap of the fin­ger­tips Against the golpeador — one of your legs is crossed over The other and it all dis­ap­pears but for the music. That slight frown on your brow...
Memento mori

Memento mori

His mother painted it, in another life. It is small — less than half a metre across, not quite square. At first glance, it’s nothing but greys, as if it could be Some 19th cen­tury indus­trial city­scape or Soviet town, But closer in, you see...
If voting fails, break glass

If voting fails, break glass

It goes without saying that spells of this kind gen­er­ally require a kitten; At least one, more if there’s a storm brewing — the weather Is a fickle assistant. As to breed, well — the more docile spe­ci­mens Tend to dis­rupt pro­ceed­ings less....