Vixie's stories

    Sliding doors   You find vision switch in echo, flick red betwixt the sure and the maybe.   If someone says you can come inside you wond...

  Sunborn   We are morning as it is, a peace offering, how it wakes, breathes, uneasy storm, the sunborn scent of the ever ocean shifting, s...

 Hi, I've taken a break from writing this year. I'm currently jobless, since March 2025, and homeless since 1 July 2025. I was made ...

  Wisps   High on the level, fire on the pedal, metal cleaves in ever-descending miles. Set a record in the waking night to an audience of b...

  Camouflage   He slides into the cracks in walls, seeps into spaces etched in concrete, the places between oceans swept, air blown outside ...

  Some poems I wrote in pubs from Monday to Wednesday. It rained quite a bit! They are all first drafts.     Wet T-shirts   Swap T-shirts in...

  Silver   The Man in the Moon moved. One day he simply stepped down, left his silver boa behind, took the world’s spotlight down. A torch b...

Hi, I'm not sure if anyone can view my blog in Google or search for it. It is no longer coming up at the top of search when I type Vixie...

  The real thing (a prose poem)   You buy it hoping it will fit, but you can never really know. Taste a sample. Is it the real thing or is i...

Pulling the chain   Spend four months kipping in hotels because you don’t have a choice – no job = no flat – and they’ll soon lose their idy...