Author Archives: Linda Marshall

The funeral leaves me numb

Posted on 29 July 2020 by Linda Marshall

The funeral leaves me numb (but flying cakes make me laugh) I recall the afternoon we toyed with impossibilities, joked and fantasized about a coconut slice without stabiliser, flying off the plate across the fourth floor café, hitting one of … Continue reading →

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The Mask of the Harlequin

Posted on 26 July 2020 by Linda Marshall

The world and its ladies of the night Stare at my lilac cheeks, The dark slits, my slanting eyes, The wig cascading over Velvet shoulders In synthetic purple whorls. The mask grins fixedly. Inside, my smile can’t grow bigger. I … Continue reading →

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Frenzy Rocket Song

Posted on 27 June 2020 by Linda Marshall

Come to see Drakkula! But Mamma I can’t, I’m suffering from jaundice, And I’ve bought a nuclear plant. I’m belting out volcanic punk, Spiked with grit and gore. I’m wedded hard to my guitar, And there’s dancing on the floor. … Continue reading →

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Postcard to myself

Posted on 24 June 2020 by Linda Marshall

Dear Linda, I’m having a fine old time in The Land of Nod – so many places to visit, mighty palaces and cathedrals, cities shrouded in mist, fortresses with zigzag castellations and rivers where the tide is forever ebbing. At … Continue reading →

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Sunlit Interiors

Posted on 21 June 2020 by Linda Marshall

Tiny orb of light that in my hand grows, I chide you as if you were a child, You come with lynx-and-eagle eyes To help me summer-clean my house. You burn inside my head with freezing fire, And though I … Continue reading →

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