Stop counting

Do not count the minutes the hours the aches of your waiting the distance of touches Do not count the weeks the months the lines around eyelids the hairs turning grey Do not count the years the decades the blinks between birthdays the fathoms of remembering


The writer who didn’t read enough

~ The owner of the book ~ At the park, a couple find a bench that has the best combination of shade and dryness available, and sit down to read. The husband feels a pang of apprehension as he reaches for his book, what is he about to uncover? He half hopes it is rubbish,… Continue reading The writer who didn’t read enough


One writer in this anthology gave up writing. The others kept going —their names are in book lists. No one knows where the writer got to. The writer may be a suicide; left rotten, forgotten in the woods. Their writing in this anthology does suggest the possibility. Perhaps they just decided that writing such things… Continue reading Words