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#somerset
. returning to my childhood home in thought returning   to mallard quacks tolling and the hour toiled                                                         by ever thirsty church bells cold damp rock house with ammonites and belemnites coiling in the walls and a cooling ichthyosaur                                   futilely trying to swim in the silty soil struggling to catch prey                                             beneath the foundation             its darkness is rummage . a flush lawn  planted nilly and obscene   monkshood  mint  cotton grass and ling warm mentions  an evening fire                                        and the family room i'm mooding through the memory                              and it grooms apart  organic birthing  not  river  not  smoke rat sized earwigs take to the air heat over the boiling tar garage roof and i return home back through time child swinging on thick vines suspended by the yew over the stream               the willows dapple and paddle the fir trees return                                           fierce sproutings of involving shade ridding the house                          of the intruder new extension                 riding time back                     and the caravan my parents                                       would later park on concrete                              is swallowed the storms of a bad year return the old wall at the property edge and the cottage reforms an ancient pace                           with its surroundings . it's no longer my families claimed place re-seemed with ghoulish history the workhouse returns                                  and files with hard poverty the wall punches through                                in what will be the kitchen and the cottage runs through long      with the neighbours space dormitory takes the whole upstairs length     and the legend of the garment thief drops ghost and rumour to live again and then all this too flees out of history . rushing back through time                                 and this all sinks into the levels swamp life takes over and the ammonites                                        moisten with anticipation prehistory is sprout   to begin .
0
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 10:08 AM UTC
. . . . s t o n e . c o t t a g e
. returning to my childhood home in thought returning   to mallard quacks tolling and the hour toiled                                                         by ever thirsty church bells cold damp rock house with ammonites and belemnites coiling in the walls and a cooling ichthyosaur                                   futilely trying to swim in the silty soil struggling to catch prey                                             beneath the foundation             its darkness is rummage . a flush lawn  planted nilly and obscene   monkshood  mint  cotton grass and ling warm mentions  an evening fire                                        and the family room i'm mooding through the memory                              and it grooms apart  organic birthing  not  river  not  smoke rat sized earwigs take to the air heat over the boiling tar garage roof and i return home back through time child swinging on thick vines suspended by the yew over the stream               the willows dapple and paddle the fir trees return                                           fierce sproutings of involving shade ridding the house                          of the intruder new extension                 riding time back                     and the caravan my parents                                       would later park on concrete                              is swallowed the storms of a bad year return the old wall at the property edge and the cottage reforms an ancient pace                           with its surroundings . it's no longer my families claimed place re-seemed with ghoulish history the workhouse returns                                  and files with hard poverty the wall punches through                                in what will be the kitchen and the cottage runs through long      with the neighbours space dormitory takes the whole upstairs length     and the legend of the garment thief drops ghost and rumour to live again and then all this too flees out of history . rushing back through time                                 and this all sinks into the levels swamp life takes over and the ammonites                                        moisten with anticipation prehistory is sprout   to begin .
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There’s an Escape Lane on Porlock Hill For those cars that are rusting, creaking and leaking For those drivers whose brakes have failed to arrest them It forces them uphill ‘til they judder and stop. There’s an Escape Lane on Porlock Hill It’s not for the likes of me, my driving restrained, my vehicle maintained Appropriately serviced with logbook stamps-in-a-row It’s for someone else entirely; quite other than me. There’s an Escape Lane on Porlock Hill For someone who speeds and needs to be forced to a stop Leaving them battered and bruised – and feeling quite foolish It’s not for me: I don’t need it. I can stop by myself. Truly, I can stop.
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Dec 10, 2025
Dec 10, 2025 at 4:38 AM UTC
Escape Lane on Porlock Hill
I take Rowan to pick blackberries. I knew where they’d be Up through the allotments beyond the windmill, brambles hanging heavy in the sunshine We each carry what we could find in the kitchen: me a jug, he a plastic box. He clutches it to his chest with both hands, stepping carefully over cracks in the pavement. Here then, The clutches of fruit perch like children sitting on a gate. Rosehips and sloes peep yet through the leaves, biding their time. I say, look at the colours. Green then red and then finally shiny, glowing, deepest purple. And oh how the fattest fall just so into your hand, as if they have been waiting Soft bubbles bursting with juice Our fingers and chins turn pink I give him the biggest and sweetest. I like the **** ones, sharp as a high summer sky. The evening sun sends our shadows on and on As I stop to watch him he grows, transforming right in front of me, long fingers and a wide wide grin, daisy faced, I must tilt My head to meet his eye. Now his hands find the furthest blackberries just beyond my reach.
0
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
Margate, August 2024
friday morning, we wake up hungover from last night's binge drinking, because even though we love our jobs, no one really wants to work for their entire lives, when so many things are unanswered, perverted, and misconstrued. hashtag all of those millennial catchphrases, to garner hearts from your friends who you haven't seen in years, friends who work in San Fran, Chicago, Greenwich Village. crank up your laptop speakers, as Neon Indian's Polish Girl plays that **** synth, and take a drag from a P-Funk, before your Grandma hits your shoulder with the newspaper daily— right after she speaks in Vietnamese, asking you what is your name, because she has Alzheimer’s. but in these social media days, isn't everything that is worth mentioning to your sister, everything that is worth fighting for, everything that is ****** in this world, on the internet (maybe, just Twitter tbh). screenshot the cat meme you like, save it, share it, move on. if only she wasn't allergic to cats, maybe it could have worked out. that was 7 years ago. *** ova it. Then, mix your red bull with your coffee, because the next 10 hours of your life, will be revolving around caring about people other than your ungrateful and ingratiating *** don't cry, when I say good-bye. stay for a while, under the shade of the rooftop where the deejay spins Frank Ocean and Frank Sinatra records, as everyone is drinking scotch, or Yuengling, and ashing over the veranda bansister, ; the bad boys try to open their souls to the good girls. and the bad girls, reveal too much to the good boys. we devoured those drugs, as though they were jelly beans from a convenience store, and then we broke into the store and ate some more. break the coals on top of the hookah, puff, puff, pass— inhale, exhale, fit the deformed piece back into the Dinosaur puzzle, and crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your trembling body, shut your eyes, and reflect, for the day is heavy with regret and unsaid things.
0
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
unsaid_Things
friday morning, we wake up hungover from last night's binge drinking, because even though we love our jobs, no one really wants to work for their entire lives, when so many things are unanswered, perverted, and misconstrued. hashtag all of those millennial catchphrases, to garner hearts from your friends who you haven't seen in years, friends who work in San Fran, Chicago, Greenwich Village. crank up your laptop speakers, as Neon Indian's Polish Girl plays that **** synth, and take a drag from a P-Funk, before your Grandma hits your shoulder with the newspaper daily— right after she speaks in Vietnamese, asking you what is your name, because she has Alzheimer’s. but in these social media days, isn't everything that is worth mentioning to your sister, everything that is worth fighting for, everything that is ****** in this world, on the internet (maybe, just Twitter tbh). screenshot the cat meme you like, save it, share it, move on. if only she wasn't allergic to cats, maybe it could have worked out. that was 7 years ago. *** ova it. Then, mix your red bull with your coffee, because the next 10 hours of your life, will be revolving around caring about people other than your ungrateful and ingratiating *** don't cry, when I say good-bye. stay for a while, under the shade of the rooftop where the deejay spins Frank Ocean and Frank Sinatra records, as everyone is drinking scotch, or Yuengling, and ashing over the veranda bansister, ; the bad boys try to open their souls to the good girls. and the bad girls, reveal too much to the good boys. we devoured those drugs, as though they were jelly beans from a convenience store, and then we broke into the store and ate some more. break the coals on top of the hookah, puff, puff, pass— inhale, exhale, fit the deformed piece back into the Dinosaur puzzle, and crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your trembling body, shut your eyes, and reflect, for the day is heavy with regret and unsaid things.
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