Dug-Out

  Pencil-black brows, Painted-pink overflow, Sludge-brown pasted over, Features Still to be Dug-out. A baby at sixteen years, Still to be born.       Copyright owned by Jay Cool

Beyond Southwold Pier

  Step out. Walk the golden footpath. Transcend normality. Shiny pebbles underfoot. Grinding, then separating. Threatening, pulling, wrapping around plimsoll-clad feet. Waves teasing. Follow on. Step out.     Copyright owned by Jay Cool

Pakefield Pirates

The pirate flag  Beckons Calls me over Invites me to walk on in to an old railway carriage and help myself to coffee and cakes Served in beer kegs and arranged in treasure chest baskets I hurry on up the lane, to the corner plot A station sign offers up to the visitor Pakefield Welcoming…

The Pakefield Ladies

    Hunched-up ladies huddle by the sea   Shivering, wrapped up in the sun.   Tied up in coarse rope.   Anchored to the pebbled beach.   Unable to even shuffle.   Howling unintelligible tones.   Gagged.   And blinded.   Path markers.   All routes out long   gone.     Copyright owned…

Pakefield Sea Front

      Waves.   Waves walking towards me as   I sit drinking tea at a pub by the sea   Thinking about fish running beneath the surface of the   Milky swirl of the tea as I swish my teaspoon around   Making whirlpools   Kites ripple and twirl around in the sea…

House Thieves in a Fruit Bowl

Apples, Bananas, Grapes, Oranges And pears House thieves in a fruit bowl. Imagine instead … A mouldy green tennis ball, A plastic crescent yellow moon, A tonne of purple pom-poms, A squidgy-orange stress ball, And a well-fed Martian with his bald head sinking into his torso and sacks of flesh flowing over his tiny teetering…

Golden Eggs

    Eggs sizzling in the rivers of fat from the bacon, sausages and black pudding of others   As they pile on the pounds that threaten to consume them, to suck them into their own    vortex, their own centre of gravity, the iris of the self.   A black dot contracting and expanding….

Facebook Reunion

Re-emergence of old friends. Ancient connections. Whispered notes in tutorials. Student cars. Minis, 2CVs and Morris Minors. Starving, suicidal acquaintances raced into surgeries, collapsing into the future. In journeys long gone. And misremembered. False recollections. Old cells died and replaced. Recharged.     Copyright owned by Jay Cool Image: Photo of 2CV from PXhere, a…

Ribs

    Spare change?   Eyes fixated on an imaginary point ahead, the host moved on.   Ignored him.   Thought about her guests.   How to prepare for their visit.     Barbaric.   He thought.   She couldn’t even look him in the eye.   Couldn’t see the juice, the tears, the potential…

A Walk in the Grounds of Cornwallis Arms

Cracked white paint on a traffic pylon, parading as Queen Elizabeth’s cement filled pock marked face.   Black paint speckled with green mould and a leafless twig coiled around it, like a dead arm clinging to an iron bed-post.   A black shiny duck’s head with freckles of bottle green, like a snooker ball wearing…