Founded balloons… Silken worms form the loom Lunatics feed off the womb. Guarded meal worms …   Death of old age. The elixir of the...

‘How’re mum and baby doing today? All well?’ The midwife pats the covers and leans over the silent, close-wrapped bundle. ‘Oh, what a face!’   The mother laughs. ‘I know, right? I feel judged.’   ‘Those are eyes that know this world.’   The baby stares back at the midwife as if it’s about to announce her grades in maths. A big, black sombre gaze through lowered lids.   Nine months. One year. Eighteen months. The gaze lands on carers and playmates.   Five, ten, thirteen. ‘An o

Age of Anthropocene. it's the geological epic dating from significant human impact on earth's geology and ecosystems including the...

“Hey Jack, what seems to be the problem?” ”You’re doing an awful lot of coughing.” “I’m not sure, I just can’t seem to stop.” “It wouldn’t be bird flu, would it?” “Don’t be so ridiculous do I look like a bird?” “Well, actually, yes. We’re pigeons for God’s sake! Coo coo, cooety coo coo.”

I’m waiting to see the doctor and contemplating her comments about every issue I have relating to age. Oh dear here it comes. ‘Well yes your aches and pains are due to your age.’ ‘What?’ ‘Yes, as we get older our bodies just aren’t what they used to be.’ ‘Hang on how old do you think I am?’ ‘Oh well it doesn’t matter.’ ‘Do you really say that to someone who’s 20?’ ‘Oh well no.’ ‘Okay so stop putting every fucking issue I have down to age and listen to what I’m telling you?’ S

Don't sleep with livestock. You will catch the strangest things, and make hens jealous.

You are as old as you feel.  What a truism. I was 25 a long time ago.  And I must have felt old, because I wrote a poem about being......

Age, age, does not weary them, but makes them get the absolute shits!   I hate this, I now tell jokes that my daily exercise is tying up my shoelaces, that if I drop something, I leave it there till I drop something ‘really important’, kick it over to the first thing just “to make doing exercise” a worthwhile activity.   I like how remote controllers reduce getting up and down but hate how my thumb now has bulging muscles it’s not supposed to have.   Washing up is a three-day

Bridging difference Walk to the edge and jump off. Shylock bleeding out.

Dark, threatening water swirling far below drifted him back to her twenty-five years before.  Before famine, armistice, bomb dropping, their world was tense but not like now.  Now, no one trusts neighbours, friends or nation.    She was breathtaking.  He would stand and stare, trying to stop his lower jaw from flopping open.  But the mind, the steel trap, now that was the big attractor.  Without that her face was mere dressing.   Had she forgotten their pledge, lost love-inte

It was an old Stonebridge with arches and thick sides. It must’ve been 400 years old. It was ancient. She was told to come to the bridge and meet her boss.  It was a bit of a strange request but she knew her boss had been after her for years and she wanted to see if he actually fit the dropkick persona that she’d always given him. Maybe he was misunderstood and she was the only one that misunderstood him.   She walked up the side of the river as the winter rains had filled it

I form into bridge. Today has been a big week. Now for child's pose. David Today has a been a big week, from the downward dog, to forming...

Trees brushed against sky. "It's like a movie," she said. "How is that?" I asked.

“Movement.  T-men, squirters, could be locals.  Get Terp to ping ‘em.” “They’re coming around.”   Creeping a few inches, looking through the infra-red scope.  Two thermals moving behind the low cement wall heading for the well.   The first-time-out POG kneels, blasting at the wall end.    Buckets fly.    Diving out, covering the distance in seconds.    Two small, mangled bodies in scarves lay still.   “How the fuck could we tell.” shouts POG hysterically.   Reaching down slow

The westerly wind winds down the valley so heavily that people become winded. It is hard to tell if it is a planetary or a primary wind, like a trade or westerly or even polar easterly. Maybe a periodic or secondary wind like a monsoon, a land or sea breeze. It could even be a mountain or valley breeze. Local winds can include a Chinook, Bora or Mistral. But, it seems, after I played my woodwind I ate a cabbage, bean and curried egg meal and it has given me tremendous gaseous

Lined up in our chairs, waiting to be butchered...I feel like I should know what it’s like to cut through someone’s skin with a scalpel. Instead I wait for my turn to be the butchered.   Should I have checked that the surgeon is actually qualified? Instead of just relying on seeing him in a fancy office and taking it for granted. Surely the fact I’m in a fancy hospital with lots of busy nurses running around is a good sign. Mind you I am always confident that I could perform

The children sat quietly, cross legged on the floor. They were small humans, not above 6years of age. Far from fully formed, but getting there. Fairly gullible, but that gullibility was gorgeous. Their teacher smiled inwardly at their cuteness.   She was explaining the photos of the animals in the wild. Some are called predators and some are called prey. The small humans looked at her with blank faces. So she went on to explain the difference in a slightly sanitized way.   “W

‘Rare or medium rare?’ ‘Well done, please.’ ‘You’ll have to get that from a different barbecue, mate. This isn’t a crematorium.’ ‘Don’t be so mean, Dan. If Scot wants it well done, he’s getting it well done.’ ‘I’m joking. Anyway, the man’s got a gift for incineration.’ Scot laughs and shrugs, visibly annoyed. His plan of feeding Dan shoe-leather next time they reciprocated the invite scrolls like ticker-tape behind his eyes. ‘He was a dragon in a previous life,’ intones Scot’

Slowly. Very, very slowly.  Muscles imperceptibly moving. Eyes still, forward, focussed, rivetted, locked on. Mottled light on mottled fur.  Head still, level, unflinching. Muscles glide forward.  Mouth twitches, chattering silently. Eyes stay locked.  Leaves and branches silently push apart. Mottled shadow glides slowwwwwwly forward, soundless.  Holding, still, moving, holding.  Gliding. Holding. Waiting. Millimetre moving, gliding, holding. Eyes unblinking. Prey stops, blin

Ms Johns stood in front of her senior school English class. They were good kids in general. Keen and enthusiastic.   ‘Predator from the Latin Praedari, Praedat, Praedator. Meaning Plunder, Seized by Plunder, Plunderer. Yes Liam?’   ‘So Miss does our concept of a predator come from someone being a plunderer, therefore they take from others by force?’   ‘Yes Liam that is a very observant. They look for someone they can take from first don’t they?’   ‘Ok sure, they try to find s