Thursday, 29 January 2009

Intro to Shot No 25

I wrote this in 1991 when I was selfish enough to steal from Ted Lewis's Jack's Return Home, which starts "The rain rained." The pleasantly endless, slow passing of time is from The Great Gatsby, though I got it via Stanley Booth.


SHOT NO 25, by Anthony Sides


Tinfoil sunlight, and a few scraps of rain smudge the dusty windows.

Take your shoes off, and lie back on the bed. Let the ceiling let you hypnotize yourself. Let the underwater ceiling let you hypnotize yourself.

Rain rains, rainily, against the dusty windows. It's one of those long, endless, unwinding Friday summer evenings, when the 1/2 an hours unspool, all laid-back and mellow, like a tape of Dire Straits switched to CONTINUOUS PLAY. Continuous play.

And the tree tops and the sunlight roll together in the rain, like green waves and gold, and the twisted, pale-sided leaves ripple and swirl.



You sit in your room and I sit in mine, separated by miles and miles of time; and you don't think about me, though I think about you; and you don't want to go out with me, though I'd almost marry you.




Monday, 26 January 2009

SHOT NO 24, by Anthony Sides

The Lancashire cat grins. Just a grin against an orange stucco wall. Is that how you remember me?

There's hot Sister Moon and the smell of vampires' breath. Trees black, grass blue in the silver.

A day's journey of baguettes, wine, sun burn, brioche. Sand and tantrums, Nivea and brie.

Cuckoos counting the clockless uncoiling of the afternoon's boiling to 11 o'clock dusk.

The sun shouts in your eyes.



Wednesday, 14 January 2009

SHOT NO 23, by Anthony Sides

Rusty stutter North Dakota rusted rails train-hit suicides empty prairie colourless grass ghost towns whose reasons for living are not known the whish of the wind Bismarck the wind can drive you crazy sing song rhythms of Texas, here playing the sheriff the whish, whish, whish-sh of the wind twisting the scratchy branches of small trees banging doors you've not latched cold wind with grit in it twisted stretches of barb wire metally glint of pale sun brighter grey through grey sky glint of broken beer bottle glass and aluminum can horse head tossing in endless wind

car slowly slowing in an arc in the yard gravel crunch pop under tires - winter sun wan bounces like pewter coin spun off windshield - thin smoke blown flat from the chimney - the door was open and the light was off and dust blew in the house and the door bumped, bumped in the wind bump, bump -

the prairie and the sky and the endlessness and the wind washing the landscape like sea on a shore sh-ing and eroding - people who say things to you when you're listening on the phone - tall winter wire brush trees

NOTE ABOUT ESPRESSO SHOTS

You'll see changes in Espresso Shots soon - new pieces will appear regularly and frequently and some old pieces will disappear - so now is the best time for you to take a good, relaxed look at the site and enjoy some of the earlier poems and stories while you can.

You'll know the revamp is finished when some of the colours and maybe the basic design of the site change. You can continue sending your writing to the site and making comments on what you read here.