Prose

I always have a hard time trying to describe stories that don’t really have a structure, or any particular meaning. More often than not, I’m experimenting with wordplay or moments that wouldn’t fit into any particular story. So, I just call it prose instead. The pieces below are fairly short and jump about between different subjects. In a way, they are writing for its own sake. Which sometimes, makes them all the more special

The Long Field

Sunday Rain

The Weight

Breathe

Growth

Contents

From On Rooftops

Sweet September Sons

Silence

The Tunnel

The Lonely Hollow

Fools

I Am Sprung

Reflections

Underfoot

The Mouse In The Doorway