Below is an erasure poem that emerged in a writing workshop led by Kirsten Luckins earlier in the week:

Walnut front, indubitably.
Silver back, haunting.
Where are eighteen bath towels, decades later?

I love erasure poems. A great way to come up with some surreal nonsense. Nothing to do with Andy Bell. They are basically collections of words and phrases you like, extracted from a page of other people’s writing. A sort of robbery come cut-and-shut job really. Often presented as pages of text with lots of black marker across it. Have a look on google images.

Today’s small stone:

We all live two lives side by side. One life to share and one to hide.

Kirsten (of the workshop) has a blog:

In other news, I have entered a flash fiction (250 word story) for the Bridport prize. Might as well start audaciously, after all. I might add a poem tomorrow.


A new blog begins

A small stone from today’s visit to the razzle-jazzle central library in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

The sweet smell of pipe tobacco, on the old man who is lending me a pen, reminds me that the golden days are not over.

If you don’t know what a small stone is and you would like to find out, try this link: