Meditations on a Tackle Box

The plastic box contains a disjointed collection of fishing tackle: the aggregate of summer holidays, a tangle of failed temptations. Take out the plastic hand-lines and stack  to one side. The cork hand-line is more interesting. It can sit on its own. A small box full of lead. Hefty. Dense. Held shut with a rapidly perishing… Continue reading Meditations on a Tackle Box

Elegy to a Beard

The Highwayman lies severed, cut down in the way, shorn from his mount. And the hand that did it rises trembling. And the eyes rise trembling to behold it To meet their accuser's eyes wide. And trembling. It was a rough deed, done with razorrrs Watched with glass, that razor-sharpt eye Done in a cold… Continue reading Elegy to a Beard