This is something I wrote when I was supposed to be writing something else, recently. And before you tell me, I know The Observer is a Sunday paper.
He’s buried there in Whitefriar Street
and they are buried too,
all the matronly types I fell for…
My poem “Valentine” is published today in Staxtes magazine English Wednesdays.
“It’s very easy to say I’d never do this, I’d never do that. I’d never, it’s easy, you say. But you don’t know, you don’t really know what you’d do unless you land in a situation. …”
Criminals by SJ Moran (Spelk Fiction, March 2015)
I have a poem in The Stare’s Nest today. At the time I wrote it I used to go to Leeds quite frequently for work and usually, though not always, stayed in the Hilton hotel beside the station. Sometimes I stayed at the Holiday Inn. Oh those expense account days!
Everybody is dying to meet her. Literally. She scythes her way through the oddballs who answer her lonely hearts advert, who frequent singles bars or are merely fated to encounter her by chance. Still, it’s no good to dwell on past misfortune, especially when it’s not hers. (Time Out, Carmencita – new edition for Kindle, 2014. £0.77p)