Let slip my mind to hills, which cry out, ‘Country!’At Swanley, plastic bottles flood the verge.Ferns curl — copper shavings shroud detritus; Detritus which is swept and then ignored. The train leaps a road and on that bridge I’m dying.My flesh-and-blood diverges from the whole,Corseted by tunnels, pinioned by dour darkness.In distant hills, my mind …
Brown bodies smudge the furrowed land.They are of it, clustering the brow. The sight deceives: makes one believe inA nervated earth.
In a world of boring training sessions, this one cut through like a hot knife in butter. That was the best 3 hours I’ve spent in… forever! I always hated semi-colons; I don’t hate them anymore. So validating! Feedback like this is validating. It validates my approach to training. Businesses are willing to try my …
Elsewhere. The most annoying jargon comes from elsewhere I’m not against jargon, per se. I’m against misused jargon, especially when it’s bandied about in the office. Let me explain… Jargon was invented for a reasonExperts needed words to describe their ideas and so developed specialist language. A.k.a. jargon. And that’s where it belongs. Between experts. …
An author I like describes writing as child’s play, meaning:Stories he wove in the creche are worth real money, meaning:His hallucinations are printed and bound. An author I like has a wife who helps out occasionally.He composed a dedication to her sanguinity.It’s sweeter than I can stand. ‘Comparison is the slow immersion of the soul …
Did you see The Atlantic article titled ‘Colleges are preparing to self-lobotomise’? It was all about the erosion of critical thinking at universities where students generated essays with AI, only for professors to mark with AI. They skipped the writing altogether. And that’s a problem, because, well… what is writing? If you wanted a fancy …
Snowdrops speckle the yard.Lambs scatter. Sun slants.They whiten the whispering green.These prophets of lifeAlight on the earth. You blink,Overawed at the scene.
Palm me, As you would a coin. Let me slide behind your wrist, All hush and quiet — Covered, While the Assembly Room roars: ‘Where are those ragged bones, Lazy and lousy?’ ‘Gone. All gone,’Is my retort —Alive with secret, Self-satisfied thought. Gone to ground… Gone under cloth… Gone against the grain Of her body… …
Imagine the wayThe dog darkenedSlipping beneath the staticOf night-time wood. Oxleas Wood, past-nine, Fuzz-flooded. Formless,But suggestively grey. ImagineArriving home, my sister (visiting)Stoking a voice on speakerphone. ‘I saw your dog… Mistaken… Sure. Moonlight swept the hall…Soaked the rug.’
There’s a toddler out thereswinging mitts on strings —store-bought woollen pendulathat shatter water — I can’tfathom the mystery northe malice of it — hedisturbs the peace withextended grasp andwithout frowning adultsstepping forward three geese rear upand snap —not biting buthissing venom(funny howin springtimethey were yellow — a mild cycle suffered scantly if at all —allowing …
