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Letters From The Dark Forest: History

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Saturday, 21 November 2009. Know what they were getting into, the day the 1920s came. The 1920s arrived with its bags packed and they politely offered to serve it tea in the orangery. That was a mistake. Very soon they were smoking cigarettes from amber holders, drinking gin and tonics at two in the afternoon and. In clipped radio-tongues. The 1920s merely lounged in a bamboo chair and watched the bobs get. The lips turn red. Then the 1930s arrived and things became. I hope ...

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Letters From The Dark Forest: June 2009

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Tuesday, 2 June 2009. As I fell through concrete skylines. In a rush of reflected glass,. The beat slipped from my heart’s drum. And split on the pavement to shards. I watched it before my landing. And felt the hungry city sing. As it gained a new pulse to chime to,. 8217;s bell ring. The water’s so cold beneath bridges. And the current’s too strong for regrets. Once decisions are made for the plummet,. The only direction is death. A girl was waiting at Southwark,. And the l...

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Letters From The Dark Forest: Falling

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Saturday, 8 August 2009. This missive will be my last from here. I am sorry. This is all I have left to do. I will disappear. Fade into the ether inside these walls, inside these gardens that keep me safe. Or held. It had been so long I've forgotten how this all began. With dancing perhaps? But the illusions did not stop. Remember the glass cracking beneath our feet? Perhaps you knew I could not last beyond? Saturday, August 08, 2009. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

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Letters From The Dark Forest: January 2010

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Thursday, 21 January 2010. There are paper birds on the underground. The migration has begun. Have you found a paper bird? Tell someone. Leave a comment. Where did you find her? What did she tell you? Maybe you can help her on her way. Thursday, January 21, 2010. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I hope you like what I've written here. This is a place for musings, stories, moments and tiny fragments. Have you found a paper bird? View my complete profile.

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Letters From The Dark Forest: August 2009

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Saturday, 8 August 2009. This missive will be my last from here. I am sorry. This is all I have left to do. I will disappear. Fade into the ether inside these walls, inside these gardens that keep me safe. Or held. It had been so long I've forgotten how this all began. With dancing perhaps? But the illusions did not stop. Remember the glass cracking beneath our feet? Perhaps you knew I could not last beyond? Saturday, August 08, 2009. Links to this post.

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Letters From The Dark Forest: Physics

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Saturday, 21 November 2009. The stars; swelling and clear. The stars that hang and. Like the lighthouse gaze that opens and shuts,. As an eye to and from. And dragging the dust;. The house of a star that they netted and kept. For the sake of the boats and the wives that They left. But the void was not filled and the velvet sky cried;. You've taken and left me with a hole in my side! And forever The Sky had to do just to gaze. But The Sky kept on wailing - for fear! Http:/ be...

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Letters From The Dark Forest: December 2009

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Friday, 4 December 2009. The skies are moving fast these days,. They rip across dragging chins along the pavement. And taking the light against their bellies in. Pinks reflected in the oils of old masters. The air sinks cold to my chest and. Against my ribs now pillars in churches –. Something snaps in the woods,. In the snatched view between sinking trees. There is the ghost of a man. On his bench and waiting,. His companion carved there never came. And he cannot swim.

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Letters From The Dark Forest: In Memory

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Friday, 4 December 2009. The skies are moving fast these days,. They rip across dragging chins along the pavement. And taking the light against their bellies in. Pinks reflected in the oils of old masters. The air sinks cold to my chest and. Against my ribs now pillars in churches –. Something snaps in the woods,. In the snatched view between sinking trees. There is the ghost of a man. On his bench and waiting,. His companion carved there never came. And he cannot swim.

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Letters From The Dark Forest: November 2009

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Letters From The Dark Forest. Saturday, 21 November 2009. Know what they were getting into, the day the 1920s came. The 1920s arrived with its bags packed and they politely offered to serve it tea in the orangery. That was a mistake. Very soon they were smoking cigarettes from amber holders, drinking gin and tonics at two in the afternoon and. In clipped radio-tongues. The 1920s merely lounged in a bamboo chair and watched the bobs get. The lips turn red. Then the 1930s arrived and things became. As an e...