Author: Arch Copy
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Slow Train Slow Writing
Theirs was a time of red dust in open mouths. Have yam, sah? Have salt? Have water? Smiling gone from the vocabulary, any man with shoes would be swarmed by the blank-faced angels of our sweeping famine. Living just got hard; death was never so easy as in the swollen belly of starving Biafra. Take your snaps,…
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A Different Perspective
Last night I slept upside down in my bed, head under the rain pounding on the skylight. We did that a lot when we were kids, and moving our beds to other positions; it gives a different perspective. I remember telling my dad I sometimes imagined that I was standing on the ceiling, walking around…
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Books Four and Five
Quite honestly, the Ackroyd was a bust. It wasn’t poorly written, just oh so dull. The trouble with translating very old stories from the original French is that you end up with quite odd prose. Stiff and abrupt. I found it very tiresome indeed and didn’t enjoy it at all. On to three and four.…
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Fuck Your Sorries and Screw Your Sermons
You’re small in death. Reduced to this sack of flesh, bolstered only by the grim mechanics of belated cosmetic attention. I hate you. You’re not him. This is a body dragged out to take his place. That suit’s brand new, and without the pirate smile all I see is a stranger’s face. Fuck you, I’m…
Arch Creative 