I saw the bomb map yesterday,before I was exploded: paper-bag-brown tags like a deflated concertinalitter the streetsspatter the battered pastlike lost letters, sorted butno longer expected And ghosts, too –captured light emergingfrom another dimensiondisplaying the precision of chance –one house…
Read: Bomb map
Family trees are awkward customers: they can lead you badly astray. For many moons, thanks to sloppy detective work and a series of guesses, I was under the impression that my mother’s family – the Browns – came from Cambridge,…
Read: Woman’s shocking message brought my tree tumbling down
Little did I think at the beginning of 2019 that I would end it being angry at the abuse of football by technology. I mean, really. Football is only a game, and there are one or two more important things…
Christmas Day is emptyno-one passes by:blackbirds wait beside the door,there’s nothing in the sky and I in my home scarhunkering downlike a long-lived limpet, familiarwith this part of town