Writing
This section of the site is set to be the new home for some of my previous writings.
The Burial of Georgio Sánchez
The actions of the inhabitants of a small town, Pueblo del Pocito, on the night preceding a funeral mass are inextricably linked to those of the passengers on a bus due to arrive in the town the following morning. The story explores the central themes of desire and deceit as the burial of a stranger, Georgio Sánchez, alters all their lives.
Download the PDF of The Burial of Georgio Sánchez
The chronologies of events, combined with the characters' recollections of past incidents, create a lyrical evocation of their passions, self-sacrifice, and necessary deceit...
"Highly individual and imaginative…" Michael Berkeley
"Wonderfully written and beautifully poetic…" Bloomsbury
"Written with sensitivity and delicacy…" Flambard Press
"Full of marvelous things…" Martin Secker and Warburg
"Bold and innovative…" Picador
An Object Of Desire
A filmmaker wants the lover he has lost and sets out to regain her. How he goes about this and whether he achieves his aim are the two pivotal points of interest in a narrative which unfolds easily from one set of events to another through 'filmed scenes', 'a screenplay', and the conventional fictional format.
eBook to be published 2010...
Poetry
A few examples of my poetry follow below...
Kite
By causeway ruffed with reeds
Below stone circle windowed space,
Sifting sights in syllables of touch you taste.
Your one hand to the other grasp
The weathered chair with wondered soul
In sight of sail
Across the inlet water fresh
In take of air
As red against the blue below
Shifts as one with swaying corn
On land that rises to the east,
That swells as to a single figure small
As speck upon a sea of ice,
As mizzenmast in ocean squall I stand,
Fists tight around the hilt,
Listing back against the wrench of wind,
Taut the tendril slices clean the air
As paper cuts the softened skin within
Sun strikes the canvas high
Whilst shadow on the earth dilates,
A pool of weighted soil dark,
The strand of fluid mooring brakes
Crisp upon the ears.
In Search of the Simple Language
In search of the simple language,
That covers close
Soft to the skin
Like fresh cotton sheets
Ruffling in a breeze that later rest,
Beneath you.
As Light
Darkness,
Where breath breaks the sound of thought.
Comfort held
Comfort gained,
In secret wonder where such life you give,
In innocence your love remains,
As of a place of hope,
As of a favoured time,
As light you have become,
As morning bathed in sun.
April
This deep red wine
From nineteen summers past
Where hands who picked the grapes we drink
Grow old and die.
Those strangers' lives change we
That have no common time or space with them
And yet we sip so sweetly such collective taste
That melts, that warms, that drowns our hearts
In one another's love we flow
And in such humid comfort gain
A key I hold, cool cold to skin
Which opens wide this place where you may rest
When you may choose
To come, to stay, to be, in love,
And face to face our bodies meet
In tender trembling tactile trust
The scent of you has filled this place,
In day, in night, on pillowcase.
The Plum Red Swivel Chair
And on the plum red swivel chair,
Seated hopeful self,
That by some miracle you press a Spanish coin,
That drops with weight into a place
Where conversations brought by foreign tours began.
This time of mourning,
Sun spreading through the study window pain,
Warming home that is forever open,
Forever yours to claim.
This time of hearing
Precious voice across the land,
That fills this body, that calms this mind.
This time has been, will come
But is not for the moment still
That creeps
Like snail upon the day,
That is a scrap of ceaseless while
Until our meeting,
Comfort gained
I am, a part, in you, my hope
Again.
The Scent of You
The other side,
Whilst you are gone,
Has briefly lost the scent of you.
I cannot touch the place
That through a sense of flowered balm,
Could raise my soul
Within such shortened space,
In days of absent warmth.