Stories that fly under a dark banner.



Exerpt from The Diamond Towers

The Diamond Towers

See other images stacked in the cupboard in Poetry Jars

A Picnic with Darwin.


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Short Stories


Rolling Cage.

Come wallow thee in the misery of this cage of woe, for tonight I drink the Russian Malady. Tomorrow’s Sun will cast a shadow on the clarity of sadness and raise the ghost of literary regret.
cage of woe

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All Change

All change

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The Mirror on Your Back.

Shh! Turn around…

spinning man

The poems buzz and rattle in the wires, so much I’ve had to encase them in images to quiet them and hold them still. Now they stand in jars stacked neatly in the gallery. Open them and take a sniff, dip your finger and taste them if you dare. But when you are done, make sure you replace the lid. They will spill and stain if you leave them open.

ode to fustat

uncertain moon

air and the the water

the only question

dream within a dream

Between the shadow and the soul

Here in the pit


Moon of Barduk

retreat of winter


truth and symmetry

pale horizon

A perfect flaw


the beach

Sky Knowledge

Doubting the Dawn

tick of the night watch

Words of Sand

music makers




SignalThe following Images were produced to accompany a short story called The Signal of the Second Spring. You can read the full story HERE or click on the images to view them all.

The Universe

The Sun

The Air

The Earth

An Idea

The Book

The City

An Army

A King

The Curious Child and the Long Walk

Curious Child

I woke this morning and couldn’t get this out of my head. Something that happened years ago but has stayed with me as a shining memory. As the day has unfolded it has become like a patience puzzle, endlessly opening its lotus leaves to reveal more complexities and hidden things.

This story started as something simple; an idea to make a walk more interesting one day. It became dreamlike in the afternoon sun, distanced over time and memory until it returned fuzzy, browning at the edges and hinting only at peripheral feelings of the days we spent together in the sunshine.

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Another story from the archives. Transformation story.



First Transition had warned me that the most painful moment would be forgetting my name but I had never taken it seriously. I was convinced that the tattoo would suffice, a coded image keeping me in touch with my mother and father all those leagues away. Now as I look at it all I see in an image of something I cannot remember gradually fading as my new skin pushes away the ink. Already I feel the constant hunger and, when I have fed, I know that Portside will become nothing but a distant and unintelligible memory.

Already there are missing parts. I share the knowledge of the First Transition which the sands pour into my mind every day. It becomes clearer, the connection between us all. Now I have only a few images of them. I see my mother sweeping all of the sand out of the house to…

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Another story from 2011. How far would you go for even a remote possibility of a dream coming true?


We rested for a moment. He lowered his elderly frame onto one of the many boulders that lay around us and he slowly removed first one and then the other sandal. Placing his hands on his knees, he raised his gaze to the hot midday sun and tried to slow his breathing. I offered him water one more time but as before he smiled at me without answering in that disconcerting way that made me wonder if he truly understood.

He was 87. He had told me many times the night before. He told me how he had travelled with the cattle trains across the delta straights, ridden the post barge up river to the city, how fever had taken him at the Tiger Foot Inn during the monsoon. His convalescence caused a great commotion amongst the missionaries, happy to have a new soul the save. He stayed through the winter and worked…

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I’ll stay with you until I am dead.


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The Wise Mouse and the Sad King.


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Short Stories