authorportraitsscotland.blogspot.com
Author Portraits: March 2011
http://authorportraitsscotland.blogspot.com/2011_03_01_archive.html
Thursday, 31 March 2011. Gavin Inglis: Writer, performer, MC, everything else. Is a non stop powerhouse of a man, with fingers in more pies that I can count. He runs Underword. Works with Writer's Bloc. Has worked with most of the Festivals in Edinburgh and is generally a fascinating and lovely chap. Posted by chris scott. Saturday, 26 March 2011. Dave Coates ( blog here. Has had a good handful of writings published in various places (for example, here. It seemed the ideal place for him, and it was!
khaibitshadow.blogspot.com
The Khaibit's Shadow: Underword
http://khaibitshadow.blogspot.com/2009/07/underword.html
Thursday, July 23, 2009. I will be appearing, with Hal Duncan at the Fringe in Edinburgh on Sun 23rd of August, Fingers Piano Bar, on Frederick Street, 7.50 onwards. Organised by Gavin at Underword. 160; Not sure what I'll be reading yet, most likely Nelson's Blood and something from the new novel. WordDogs. Will be performing their greatest hits on the 21st. And with a new job starting in August its going to be pretty busy. Wow - well done! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile.
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: September 2009
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html
Saturday, 26 September 2009. A Little Tooth - by Thomas Lux. Your baby grows a tooth, then two,. And four, and five, then she wants some meat. Directly from the bone. It's all. Over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall. In love with cretins, dolts, a sweet. Talker on his way to jail. And you,. Your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue. Nothing. You did, you loved, your feet. Are sore. It's dusk. Your daughter's tall. . Friday, 18 September 2009. Day sheds it’s skin. The sun that creeps. For leaves to fall.
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: Fire and Water
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/fire-and-water.html
Tuesday, 5 October 2010. I remember the crow's foot. Guiding a rivulet of tears. And further down your cheek. There was a Dee or a Don. I knew the river. I launched boats on the river. I sailed on boats down the river. Out onto an open ocean. I sailed to dry lands. Scaled the sand dunes. Built my house on the sun. And ate my daily bread. When they found me. I was in love with your leaves. My skeleton hung from your branches. And chimed in the breeze. I imagined a drop of you landing on the grass.
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: May 2009
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html
Friday, 15 May 2009. In the light of day. The ceiling of the spare-ribbed room. Is wallpapered soft pink. I think, with a warm bodrhan beating. This bond knows no bounds but. When the sun set on paradise. When I was thrown out of paradise. Someb’dy skelpit ma erse. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). There was an error in this gadget. Http:/ underword.co.uk/. Our sweet old etcetera. Open Knowledge Foundation Weblog. Derrick C. Brown. Http:/ www.brownpoetry.com/. Poetry Scotland Issue 50.
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: October 2010
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html
Tuesday, 5 October 2010. I remember the crow's foot. Guiding a rivulet of tears. And further down your cheek. There was a Dee or a Don. I knew the river. I launched boats on the river. I sailed on boats down the river. Out onto an open ocean. I sailed to dry lands. Scaled the sand dunes. Built my house on the sun. And ate my daily bread. When they found me. I was in love with your leaves. My skeleton hung from your branches. And chimed in the breeze. I imagined a drop of you landing on the grass.
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: Milkbottle
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2009/12/milkbottle.html
Sunday, 20 December 2009. Her child is crying. Out on the avenue. From a night bus passing lights up the hall. Open door. There's a whole darkness to wander in. And out of it. Lying in bed are day owls. Brittle to the touch. The child is not a baby. There's milk in the fridge for you when you can't sleep. Open door lights up the hall. There's a whole darkness to wander in. A frost but no stars. The butter is hard. Someone will invent a device. That will record the tinkle tinkle of little stars.
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: December 2007
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.html
Friday, 7 December 2007. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). There was an error in this gadget. Http:/ underword.co.uk/. Our sweet old etcetera. Open Knowledge Foundation Weblog. Derrick C. Brown. Http:/ www.brownpoetry.com/. The Association for Scottish Literary Studies - New Writing Scotland. Http:/ www.arts.gla.ac.uk/ScotLit/ASLS/NewWriting.html. Poetry Scotland Issue 50. Http:/ www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/issue.asp?
mullofnowhere.blogspot.com
Lobscouse: Buffalo Girls
http://mullofnowhere.blogspot.com/2012/02/tomorrow-i-went-for-walk.html
Thursday, 16 February 2012. All the folks who had died on a Sunday. Gathered in one room behind an old wooden door. The rest of us waited. Some of us for seasons. Others because they weren’t ill or old. Standing beside the grandfather clock. A boyman (17) announced to the gathering. 8220;as of tomorrow I went for a walk”. The midnight proxy cuckooed twelve times. And next Sunday started with an almighty bang. In the wee hours he started walking. And we all sang loudly. From the bottom of our hearts.
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