Author Archives: colinhopkirk

Police Constable Hendersonshaking loose her buntrails one hand in the waterthe other holds an ice creamwhich is meltingunnerving Sergeant Smitha happily married mana pillar of his communitywho, nonetheless, is not made of woodwho, given half a chanceand under the right set of circumstancesif nobody was watchingand there were no security camerasif only he could findContinue reading “THEY HAVE CORDONED OFF THE PARK”

always red woolalways the same redsomewhere between wine and bloodshe makes knotslong lines, sequenceswhole balls of wooland I’m thinking artworkcan see them in a gallerydozens of strandsred strandshanging on white wallswhich is nonsensewhich is me projectingmissing the point of her knotsthat belong in a carrier bagbecause that is where they liveof wine and bloodand whatContinue reading “AT THE CRAFT TABLE”

there’s a physical equationNewton’s second lawthat may go some way towards explaininghow these things got heretheir crazy distributionacross this broken hillthat pall of rising smokenowhere near Leeds

broad oaks and playing fieldsmasters still in gownssomewhere out of reachthey’re chanting ‘fight!’a small boyall spit and fistswiping blood and snot awaystaggers to his feetrefuses to stay down

synchronicity?the conjunction of stars?fickle finger of fate?(lucky break)

it sounded terribleroaring aroundout there in the darkrattling slatesshaking fences and treesit sounded terribleonly it wasn’tnot really, not herein other places the storm applied itselfgot stuck inin other places it was newsworthy

they come when they willin supermarkets or restaurantsin city crowdssometimes in passing carsalways dressed as strangers

under these lightshe could be Prosperothat moustachethat pointed beardmight not be pasted onignore his shoesstay with the illusionbelieve the cards and doveshave just appearedthat the woman in the boxis just a strangerand with a puff of smokeshe will be gone

a moment of weirdnessfive seconds or sowhere I’m all at seadrunk as a lordwaiting for the parts of methat stabilise and propelto focusto get their act togetheruntilt the roomwhich they dowhich they eventuallyand graciously do

that Laurel & Hardy sketchthe one with the pianotwo men attempting the impossibleor the almost impossibleeverything conspiring against themgravity and distance – the piano is heavyand there are many stairsthey try this way and thatbecome hot and tiredfail to communicateshout, wave their arms, shrug, sighalmost give up, but don’tin the end, the piano is destroyed