Friday balances on the weekend. In our street, cars make themselves seaworthy, ready to be carried away on the outgoing tide of a morning commute. Big kids in black blazers walk down the hill. Tiny kids in white shirts walk up the hill. If I squint they become one giant barcode.
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2021
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December
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- THE DREAM-CHANGER AND ME
- A BIT OF A STRETCH
- MESSY
- STORM SWAPS
- A REAL MILD CHILD
- FUZZY DAYS
- DECKED MY HALLS
- THE POET'S TRAIL
- 1 DAY LEFT
- NOT SUITABLE FOR TURKEYS
- DROPPED STITCH
- BIN DAY REVOLUTION
- BLING DONG MERRILY ON HIGH
- SWISH
- FIGHTING THE FOG
- BELIEF IN A BUTTER LIFE
- BARCODES
- HERE BE DRAGONS
- A BRAND NEW PEACE
- SCHOOL RUN - 14/21/21 - AM
- FRAMING XMAS
- SWINGS WERE AN OPTION!?
- THE MARVELOUS MECHANICAL SELF-WRITING POETRY MACHINE
- HOW FASCISM ARRIVES
- LEANING GRAVESTONES
- WORD JAIL
- THE BROW ON OUR HILL
- PARTY GAME
- RISE AND SHINE
- CORNER-SHOP XMAS
- SANTA STOP HERE
- DAWN'S REFEREE
- DREAMS OF SPACE 1999
- THOUGHT EXPERIMENT
- PACESETTERS
- SEEN TO BE
- PAPER CUT
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December
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About Me
- Kidcobbler
- Spent nine months dreaming on my back. Opened up new horizons, if only horizontal. Woke up disabled, with a Blue Badge and bed hair. Walk with a limp and a stick. Cue the double entendré and the stick. Saving money on shoes. Spending it on thoughts. Overdrawn at the creative bank. Loan facility disabled. The irony! Stronger through weakness. Weaker through slogans. New journeys to be taken. Pop along. I'm off my back. I'm back.
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