Ghost Busting

I’m unpublishing two of my self-published e-books. The novella Like Clocking Fuckwork

Like Clocking Fuckwork Cover Preview l

and the short story, and first part and introduction to would have been series, Poison Flour: A Fish goes for a Swim and ends up Drowning

A Fish goes for a Swim and ends up Drowning

will no longer be available anywhere. The reason for this is that, let’s be honest, I don’t have it in me to do nearly enough promotion and right now I’m feeling like they might, in fact, be shit to begin with anyway. I’m probably also shutting down my author account on Goodreads, because it’s doing absolutely nothing for me, creatively, socially or promotionally.

I’m keeping my two poetry books out there

An old Jigsaw    c42kx-done-g-liten

because … why not, and if I ever start harbouring illusions about it again I might eventually serialize the novella on Medium. We’ll see.

As you were.

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Narratives

You not hearing it
doesn’t mean a soundtrack
isn’t playing
in the background as I
enter this bus

You don’t know

And so what if I
only got on because I
overslept and
didn’t have time for
my usual
walk to work

You don’t know about me

You don’t know the things I can do
in my head as I
sip this coffee

How could you?

You don’t even hear the songs that are playing

***

This poem was originally published on Medium.

Photo by Timon Studler on Unsplash

An old jigsaw

They sat one evening on the riverbank
shielding themselves from the wind in each other’s arms.
He was breathing in the fresh air
and she was shivering.

She said ‘as we’re sitting here life is passing us by just like the water’.
He said ‘you and me here in this moment is life’.

He said ‘if we had planned ahead we wouldn’t be sitting here like this right now’.
She said ‘if we had planned ahead we would have already been home’.

And then they both said ‘I love you’.

***

This poem was originally published in 2015 and is the title piece of An Old Jigsaw, my first collection of poetry and flash fiction.

Language Barrier Reef

One of the things I love most
about being abroad is being surrounded
by people speaking foreign languages;
languages I don’t understand.
Every conversation seems intriguing.
There’s an endless array
of possibilities
for what is being talked about.
People seem so very interesting
when you don’t understand
what they are actually saying…