Six Places Where You Have Spoken on Queen Mob’s Teahouse

I wrote a poem – first one in a long time. It sort of sneaked up on me in the guise of a flash fiction (some flash fictions I have written before have also flickered loose of narrative and into poems). Here’s a little:


In the house on the rock by the lake. I was told, if you need to tell someone, tell the sea. If you are far from the sea, a river will do: the words will make their way downstream eventually. If there’s no river, not even a stream, at hand, go to the mountain. Don’t ever tell the lake. Don’t. But I drank whisky and I sat by the lake and I told.

Read the rest…



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