Smells of Time - Steve Coel

Scratches jotted on car door handles

Steve Coel

You always walks ahead

so you can 

keep eyes

on his back.

Even now,

now when you's

both been outside 

six months.

And you's still both wearing

trademark greys 

with parallel pockets

that hide your newest shanks

which, like all bad habits,

is difficult to break.

Of course we sees

your interesting walk

straightaway.

Looks like

you's both walking

at the same pace.

But you isn't.

Is trick

you needs to learn

and practice.

Brings unneeded attention

if you looks 

like you's running.

Which you is really.

Even so, you's brave.

Got to be round this way.

Thing is

you's both got to try

harder to stop

being this stupid.

Although, fair does,

everyone knows

two heads is better than one.

So well done there.

Is clear peoples got

to break you up

if they's going

to get better deal

than you.

And that's 

how it always starts.

Always.

Takes three

to break two

and four

to break three

and so on.

Is how wars start.

So: twos

easier to deal with.

Trust like.

Smells of Time [ v.2 ]

Steve Coel

In you comes -

in your sad seven year old

ironic tracksuit

and pair of box fresh.

In you comes -

looking up deals

on the board

behind the counter

which, we knows, show

same best day

as last time, last week, last month.

In you comes -

doing quick sums

and ordering a dozen shots

with your release money

before giving each away

to punters who ain't interested.

In you comes -

barely missed
and completely blitzed

just another forgotten

madman.

In you comes -

...a madman bent by routine

...a madman twisted by addiction

...a madman caught in the to and fro 

   of the outside which has turned its back

   and good riddance.

In you comes-

...a madman smelling of time.

Notes:

...just talking to you. You smells of time, 

cork floors and small town county court rooms.

#abstractphotography2020

heb deitl

Steve Coel

Actual Size: 80cms x 80cms

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

The Wet Shift - Steve Coel

The Wet Shift

Steve Coel

Extract.

Time was he'd be with the other workers heading south after another all night wet shift.
But not today.
Today, he's still invisible in his toasted brickwork hat and waking up after a nights sleep on the butchers slab that rests buried in the dark silted low tide beach alongside the gravy.

Extract.

Busy checking that the hidden key and twist are still in his deadman's waistcoat he will slowly begin his own journey south of the river to his cardboard hostel room, electric sheets, liquid breakfast and another brown day full of grey moods, careless thought and burnt cake.

[ V.4 ]

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

#abstractphotography2020

The Wet Shift

An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Thin Whistle at Dusk - Steve Coel

Thin Whistle at Dusk

Steve Coel

Mystery man, shadow man

is what they used to call him.

 Him, the latest three day 
thin whistle at dusk millionaire

returning from sea, 

to die like his father again

over and over.

Shallower sea back then

better cut cloth, broader smiles.

Now, after too many

rope marks and twisted bone 

life comes mixed still

with drink, sharp curses

and dark corners.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Three Day Millionaire

Steve Coel

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

No Paths - Steve Coel

No Paths

Steve Coel

Here,

where young people

never return

and there

are no paths,

is the place

language goes to die,

and old people

still stop to watch

lost cars

drive pass.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Mercy Path

Steve Coel

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Paper Towns - Steve Coel

Paper Towns

[ The Mercy Path ]

Along the mercy route

in six month empty

paper towns,

elderly people in torn slippers

dance painfully down rusty nail footpaths.

Their bags : half empty

hold forgotten out of date tins

of meat and dried fruit

as they chatter, to themselves,

about childhood, romance and warm hands.

Life is ending in these communities,

these places of beauty,

where memories will soon be forgotten

as nature wipes away

all marks of living.

                              Steve Coel

From Croft - Solva: The Mercy Path [ 2020 ]

An 11.59 Publication

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Iron and Broken Bone

Steve Coel

This particular journey is now
like so many others I have previously taken.
For there is something not quite right
about being in dying places, where life 
really is just a shadow to the real world, 
and the real world is always, always, 
somewhere else. Just not here.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Footfall in Albany - Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Steve Coel

1. Morning.

Is all about frail, weightless, frightened older men who
come into cafe for three hour coffees, game of cards
and who all talk endless bollocks about non existent
winning horses.

2. Afternoon.

Is mainly about shapeless local smackheads
and hard-core druggies who come into cafe to
settle small debts and to boast about knowing
where next deal is going to happen.

3. Evenings.

End of the day for some, sees cheap fatty meals
and shelter from the pain of the street.

4. Late Nights.

Is all about 'real money' being made
in busy stockrooms of empty shops.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Eggs Chase the Bacon

Steve Coel

Neighbourhoods, communities, environments.
Past, present, future.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Torn Shoes - Steve Coel

Torn Shoes

Steve Coel

Many daytime hideaways

are in backspaces

unseen from roads

and rear view mirrors.

Here, feral torn shoes

will once more be shredded

by rubble and broken glass.

And shaking hands

will again be shaken

between tracksuits

worn to hide

shape, weapons and sex.

Tomorrow you will return

because it is the place

where real trade

remains invisible

and ignored.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Low Mileage

Steve Coel

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Carry On Waiting - Steve Coel

Carry on Waiting

Steve Coel

Outside Like.

Suppose story starts on the street

outside like.

Always good place

to start story

I reckon.

So, begins with Police 

searching a car.

Wrong car as it happens.

And some other footies

is holding this guy

against a wall

while others is checking

his jacket in doorway

of adult store.

Is my understanding

they won't find nothing.

Busy Day.

Sunny day.

Busy day.

Bad atmosphere.

And looks being passed

between people

trying hard

not to know

each other.

Failing badly they is, 
really should do better.

So; the story?

Early for Some.

Morning. 
Early for some.

Late for others.

And someone, it seems,

is clearly not making it

through the day.

Is getting desperate

and is needing

some action

pretty quick.

Like right away. 

Right now.

So.

Quick snatch job is all. 

Bad call is what it is.

Being watched see.

Being watched

quite closely as it happens.

Decision time for me.

Do I?

Step in?

Or carry on waiting?

Luckily, for all involved,

uniformed footie wades in.

Very lucky indeed.

Laugh That.

There's a bit

of running round.

I likes a good chase,

but who doesn't?

Local security joins in too.

Laugh that also.

Though twats they is

for joining in

cos peoples quick round here

when opportunity arises.

So it is.

Quick in and out is all

even though they knows

cameras sees everything.

And they also knows

security will be having words

with them later.

Poor bastards.

But what you going to do?

I'll also be having a word

prior like,

it's what I does,

my job.

Like I tells you,

my street.

So that's the back story.

Of course you knows the rest.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Closing Down Sale

Steve Coel

Carry on Waiting was published in 
Tin Collector, An 11.59 Publication.
In recent reviews for this collection of
Micro Flash Fiction, this story was selected.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Dead Air into Warm Harp - Steve Coel

Dead Air into Warm Harp

Steve Coel

Since I bust my legs down The Works
I's had to spend all my mornings
blowing dead air into warm harp
by the Central Library.
Bust my heart too, truth be known.
Lost everything now I has.
Still; once I's got enough coin
I has a mild and Clark's pie
down The Vulcan.
And; often or not, I ends up
talking to the old girls
warming themselves up,
before they goes and shelters
under the bridge by The Glastonbury.

Clink Hotel across the road
gets noisy in the afternoon
so I wanders back into town
for a bit of a stretch and goes
cadge a cup of tea from Astey's
before heading back down Bute
to the Sally for warm meal
and early bunk.
Doesn't have time to feel sad really.
Not me.
Trick I finds, is to forget past
and just stick to what I knows.
Need change of shoes mind.
Guess I'll find some in box
by side door in the morning.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Low Congregation

Steve Coel

This Micro Flash Fiction was previously published by 
An 11.59 Publication.
The story itself is universal really. 
Individuals all around us, are either coping
with forced change or being destroyed by it.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Half Stolen Buildings - Steve Coel

Half Stolen Buildings

Steve Coel

In her regulation daytime armour

cracking with coarse whispers

and yesterdays broken promise,

the young girl pushes

a vape shadowed carrier

past steamed up pub windows.

Her world is the High Street,

where each day

a bitter grey tide

shambles downhill

toward abandoned blue churches

and disappearing city light.

And it is here

plastic shoes will slap

into one off needles

that litter fishless gutters

and where, even on dry days

the pavement is damp.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Stryd Fawr / Stryd Uchel

Steve Coel

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

The Mercy Path [ v.4 ] - Steve Coel

The Mercy Path

Steve Coel

Once you bypass

the last lightning tree

you enter a hillside world

of midnight stream

and border wire music.

Here, across shilling debris

and early shadow,

blisters of high mist

compose movement

from iron and broken bone.

From Croft - Solva: The Mercy Path [ 2020 ], 

An 11.59 Publication.

#documentaryfictionphotography2020

Iron and Broken Bone

Steve Coel

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

A Wasteland Too - Steve Coel

A Wasteland Too

Steve Coel

The sounds of anger and work

have long been removed

and replaced by

decaying woodwork,

rusty nails and dirty water.

And once busy bar rooms

now support dreams

that flinch and harden

with each repeated telling.

These old shipyards

are still bordered

with axes and knives

but today deliver nothing.

So, to the sound of dusty seagulls

scraping their wings across

shallow pits of broken bone

lights burn, as local eyes

glaze and ignite.

Documentary Fiction Photography

A Wasteland Too

Steve Coel

From Mud on a Plate, 2010. An 11.59 Publication.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

This Ringing in the Ears - Steve Coel

 Documentary Fiction Photography

Signs. Notions.

Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Signs. Notions.

Steve Coel

Signs. Notions. [ v.2 ]

Steve Coel

Always 

just above the speed limit.

Always.

Is the way

around here.

And you notices

when you stares forward

just how much you sees

what's going on

behind you.

You's taught early

by those who decides

they needs you.

And you listens

with your eyes.

Has too.

Is sometimes

just a shadow,

a movement across the light,

a click, 

simplest thing

cannot go unnoticed, ever.

When you

touches your sleeve like,

a flick of ash.

Signs, notions,suggestions, 

suspicions, feelings,

you becomes hypersensitive to it -

does your head in.

Time gets to be blurry.

You's seriously

in the moment,

every moment.

And sleep.

Real sleep

is tempting

but too dangerous.

You gets minutes only.

But you makes sure

you's being checked.

Because

as you know,

recreation isn't always

for exercise.

Rust on Cloth

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Empty Corners - Steve Coel

High Congregation

Steve Coel

Empty Corners

Steve Coel

Stepping away from the street

through a broken 

broad open two door,

you painfully walk

into a high congregation

of brown paper

and leather.

Once inside

along each damp tired wall

you discover anointed paint

quietly peeling,

and unclean fragile carpet

frayed by disappointment,

falling into

gloomy empty corners

stacked high with rotting chairs.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

The Proposal - Steve Coel

heb deitl

Steve Coel

The Proposal

Steve Coel

Cut

into bitter wet stone

by masters of dead trades,

your life story.

Brief like you

words torn from broken parents

target the elders,

who created your passing.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Heavy Locks - Steve Coel

Arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Steve Coel

Heavy Locks

Steve Coel

Quarrels echo

across the yard

toward

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

of heavy locks,

that fasten decisions

from the outside.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Middle Lane Birds - Steve Coel

The Mercy Path

Steve Coel

Middle Lane Birds

Steve Coel

Along hidden

grassed up middle lane

birds swoop as insects

skirt and skit.

Time here is held in place

by bells

distant with summer

brown and crinkled blue.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication