middle lane birds
steve coel
recorded some of the soundtrack today.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
Short Fiction: Experiments + Proposals - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication
middle lane birds
around church stretton - steve coel
along grassed up middle lane birds
swoop as insects
skirt and skit...
time held in place, bells
distant with summer smells brown
and crinkled blue.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
Steve Coel
steve coel
studio
steve coel
steve coel
in the studio, selecting pictures for Tin Collector.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
an1159publication.blogspot.com
kildas song
kildas song.
[ written by a wall, on the island overlooking the ocean ]
quarrels echo across the yard towards a large watery
gate
grey. figures turn; hiding their hands and run,
as animals scatter with the wind that howls
down the hill
women gather, and men glare behind vast whiskers.
in photographs heavy locks
fasten decisions about the outside.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
Microflashfiction - Steve Coel
Travel Notes.
...blasts on metal kits and clips of rubber on hackneyed
streets...bottles drunk from damp fingers and hair touching
woollen shoulders...toes shrunken in pebbles as lights
flicker across pink water on grey boats and limp buildings...
flimsy machines collecting coins and live dreams from
fragile bones, damp hands and nylon shoes.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
Frayed Trousers
Frayed Trousers
steve coel
it was always going to be the rings on his fingers.
dead giveaway.
every time.
not his car coat. not his appalling smile just before
he lost it.
his cheap shoes, the shoes he liked a lot, and his too
long frayed trousers, just seem to go unnoticed.
strange that.
scam is what he would call it. is all.
people watch too much TV see.
so...just a few backhanders, a couple of meetings and
the usual sealed envelope.
he didn't hurt anyone; anyone you'd care about anyways.
well, did he?
steve coel
Draft - Wolf Within [ 2016 ]
An 11.59 Publication
Where's my sister?
11.59 [ illustration ]
steve coel
Where's my sister?
steve coel
we see you through the laundrette window on the
high street.
huddled tightly in your blanket you are trying to keep the
cold from bones and wet hair.
you clasp a book in the dim, cheap light.
a single glove on your other hand, a hat limp against
your shin.
you are; young yet old, in your city camouflage gazing at
passing cars, coat muddied, trousers soiled.
"where's my sister?"
"where's my sister?"
you shout.
you are not a fool as later you stand at the pavement edge,
forgetful, wracked with thoughts, demons and beer.
in framed windows of fire and TVs a city will still ignore
this frightened man while small children continue to play
and cause trouble before tea.
11.59 [ illustration ]
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
chances are
11.59 [ Illustration]
steve coel
chances are.
chances are
chances taken.
steve coel
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
money made here, leaves here
money made here, leaves here.
steve coel
short film: [ person, with stick, not old, walks away from camera.
voice over..]
you accept new rules when you step through this hole in the fence.
new laws.
11.59
steve coel
things will get broken here. been this way for a while. too long.
what is left is unwanted.
corridors are still marked on the ground.
lino and nails for rooms with no walls or doors.
walk across acres and acres of empty promises.
step carelessly through memories.
even unseen spray can imaginations flake from neglect.
money once made here has now left here.
for good.
REPEAT.
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication
An 11.59 Publication
walking notes.
steve coel
day time hide aways.
in back spaces, unseen from roads and rear view mirrors.
between rubble and broken glass, shaking hands, shaken.
tracksuits worn to hide shape, weapons, sex.
no names.
trade is invisible, unknown.
Arfordir Byw
steve coel
An 11.59 Publication, Birmingham
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