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You’re lying next to me
and we’re not saying anything
and the words are just out of reach
...
I
Fate terrifies me to death,
and I do not oppress the poor man.
I am weary from under heaven;
The horror of heaven.
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Beheaded mountain, cold shouldered and sheared. Her knees sink into merciless sands. Sinewy tree limbs: fuse wires exploding, a plug neck pleads with purple punctured sky. Mourning moon picks out an arc of tree spines, like a bone whale belly cage...
In another country I cause red explosions on white with a workbook after midnight and wake in the morning to count the bites, always in competition with my brother to see who is more delicious. He is. All clothes cotton-elastic. Held together with a rainbow belt...
Yet another hole. Just above the hem, an inch above her beltline. Another fiddly rip unravelling the faded navy blue fibres of her favourite jumper into a handstitched rendition of the Isle of Wight that lets in wind and water and makes her spine stiffen with the cold, and her skin crawl with the damp...
The world tilts and nothing is the same as it was before. It’s like staring down a long hallway. Endless doorways open and open and you become aware of the timelessness of things. As you think this, you detach. You float away somewhere and it’s like you’re just watching this happen from some other place...
Once upon a time there existed human beings without smartphones. They were intelligent creatures, just like us, only they were capable of finding their way to somewhere new without consulting Google Maps, a GPS or even a printed map (if you’re old school). How they managed this remains unknown, however scientists credit this phenomenon to a heightened ability at reading their surrounding landscape and consulting the stars as well as people who they met along the way. Not to mention an acute sense of direction. On a serious note, we’ve reached a time where it is simpler to turn on your 4G, tell your phone to find out where you are, and type in where you want to of rather than follow street signs or ask a stranger...
I’m one of those people who struggles saying ‘no’ to certain projects. While this has brought a multitude of hilarious memories and a killer CV, it has not been without a significant mental toll. It wasn’t until I was meeting up with an old lecturer of mine that I began to realize something was amiss. When told about what I’d been up to lately, she asked: ‘Are you doing this for yourself or for other people?’, a question which still rumbles through my brain on occasion. My mood comes in waves. The tide is affected by...
It’s a terrible illness — and it can strike at any time. Some say it’s a millennial disease. Some say it’s the curse of middle-aged men. It’s more common than short-sightedness, and it’s a greater plague than back pain. It’s contagious. There’s no known cure. And anyone can see its symptoms — except the person suffering from it. I’m talking about ‘I’ trouble. You know how it sounds: “I did this, I said that…” The friend who won’t stop talking about their problems — they’ve got ‘I’ trouble. So has the friend who drops unsubtle hints of their success. ‘I’ trouble is the neighbour...
Paris Morel
Fertility has her arms crossed.
She will not speak, or be deciphered.
Womb to the Black Sea, moody
as a rhino, breasts, heavy limestone.
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