Spike I

At half ten at night while he was flicking through the pages of his girlfriend’s novel, a spike went through David Lyndhurst. Not a spike of pain, not a spike of inadequacy. A spike. The spike pierced him like a skewer through a kumquat at a middle class barbecue.

tar fairy

misleading stillness

moving at a pace unseen

flitting, winged being

back before you know it

in a twirling flurry of ash

cigarette smoke dancing

on your palate

leaving grey footprints on your mind

dainty flecks of tar stick up

pink air sacks

bobbly black surface

brer rabbit breath

tar baby coughs

side of fist on centre chest

wheezing fever

 

Bricking it (up)

Gentle problem

Elusive stony nature

Winds and whips through the red underskin

Contracting in a thoughtful pulse that lives here between the temples

A creeping rage illuminates the deep black, things happen.

The people don’t see but the walls move, the bricks align with grainy fluidity, a rug lifted and shook, rows wave like fabric

Snaking cement lines drip down the walls, they’ve come loose in the upheaval.

 

 

Flame of Consciousness

Stretching out ahead

Vast narrow wind

Stringy path – goat tracked

Grass matted like my hair at the back when I can’t be bothered to comb.

Poke holes in soil

Dampness

Dew in the morning on the “washing” line

Granted

I’m an adder, swishing through, coiling up

Slow worm

Slow wyrm

A letter and I have wings and claws and

legend gold

Fear inciter (twisted)

Blowing up bin-breath

Antisocial hoarder of things that mean different to me.

A magpie value

Scrooge McDuck Dragon whip my tail and yawn, as you creep past me

Heart pounds

My great yellow eye pierces your body,

Drop in fear and I make you dance, twirling dolly with scaled fingers,

Black glinting talon twirls.

Scar in the lair – you can be Rowan Atkinson’s blue bird

NPC – Part 1

My legs swung forward from the hip. I was agile. I didn’t feel the familiar and expected groaning of my calves, instead I felt happily strong and capable. I flew across the landscape without tortured breath or heaviness and I felt free.

I crawled round the house in the semi-darkness, resting often from the labour. I sighed as I plugged back in.

Looking around with alert bright eyes, I clenched my fists as I looked over across the small settlement. I climbed down from my vantage point.

Shanty buildings with a shiny sheen greeted my eye. A cliché in a chequered dress swept up pointlessly outside the cartoonish inn doors. A wind passed through as if to better animate the scene for my benefit and it tousled the cliché’s hair and gently parted the doors to the saloon. A ridiculous tumble weed crept just past her feet and she looked up to give me an empty smile.

I looked around to see if any other characters populated the area. There were none, so I walked my ridiculous cowboy walk over to the chequered caricature. Before she or I could speak I unwillingly tipped my ridiculous hat.

The sun beat down on my dirty face and it was the first time I’d felt truly uncomfortable there, as I prepared myself for speech. I wished her a good afternoon without incident and she gave me a “Howdy stranger, welcome to The Slanted Gran” in return. The name of the place appeared in my view and I felt an endorphin boost as if I’d achieved something, simply by “discovering” this new territory. Her mouth shaped the words so distinctly, with such purpose. Her eyes remained dim. She smiled at me blankly while I chose what to say.

She didn’t seem to notice I was a woman in typically masculine attire, despite the apparent time period, she didn’t seem to notice a lot. She just goofily grinned at me, her windswept hair moving in unnatural, lagging fragments.