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Tag Archives: Robert Ford
you sense that the world might still be picking out an axis upon which to turn, considering at which angle to incline itself towards the sun, perhaps even whether to settle at this point in the order of things, or … Continue reading
On the other side of the bed, with the hill of its back turned towards you, The Night is busy writing down its dreams again. You know about this. The ratscratch of its pen across the page and the muted … Continue reading
Being only five days old, the year is still crawling, yet to grow out completely into these new clothes, hanging starched and stiff about it. Through the half-misted, upper-floor window of a bookshop, the now-redundant lines of Christmas lights sag, … Continue reading
Sometimes all I really want is to lie in your spent arms a little longer, wherever we are, whatever I’m covered in, whoever is crashing at your door, or rattling at your boxes with their greedy, insistent little words. Let … Continue reading
Jazz rhythms of sunlight, punctuated by cloud, snap all summer long about the dusty front porch, baking the steps and the beaten pair of seats that face out into the passing theatre of the road, while the old piano sits … Continue reading
In each one of those unbearable moments when his gaze keeps slipping, just away from yours by no more than a fraction, to rest on some invisible point of the naked wall behind you, you can’t stop yourself from noticing … Continue reading