by Steve Tanham
If time proves to be not just malleable, but revisitable, we can close our eyes and be back in a tiny Lancashire hamlet called Tockholes; graced by a pub, a few stone cottages and a car park/bus turnaround of the farthest route from Bolton’s bus station, on Moor Lane, in the town centre. Had my share of nightmares, didn’t think there could be much … Read More Lady Eleanor
by Steve Tanham
Continued from Part One. I knew the line was coming… “And I never saw him, again,” said my grandmother. It was the story of grandmother’s eldest brother; a man deeply important to her, almost another parent – she the youngest sibling. There was a tone of bitterness there. My Grandmother had suffered a hard life. Her husband, my paternal Grandfather, had also survived the … Read More Girl on a Motorcycle – Part Two
by Steve Tanham
A monster beyond cool… I muttered the words into the sweet, black liquid which, four times a day, had become my substitute for life, and gazed out of Cafe Giacomo’s window and across one of the city’s busiest side streets. The bike snaking in and out of Rome’s afternoon traffic was huge…so big that I had to look twice at the slight body of … Read More Wanton Whimsy: Monster
by Steve Tanham
On a day of scarecrows The little patch of oil, beneath your sump Called to me To put aside Wray’s springtime pride And ride my early miles, again. ➰ Where teenage fingers Cold or burned, begged broken thread To mend and seal The engine’s heated flow And let the boy get home ➰ And sliding frozen rump From frozen saddle, fingers stiff To feed … Read More Where Scarecrows End
Sun in Gemini 
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