Bison Hill – Jimmi Campkin

June is the worst month.  None of the fresh optimism of spring, the frenetic blustery energy of July or the languidly horizontal effortlessness of heavy, lazy August.  June doesn’t smell… unlike moist Autumn with her crispy leaves decaying under our feet, the clingy humid soil covering our skin like an overly affectionate friend.  June is …

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The Night Will Be Hard – Jimmi Campkin

* Sophie walks towards me and puts down the plastic can of gasoline, the grass yellowing around it like a sickly halo.  Her tight blond curls dance to Francis, her pet lizard roaming freely across her scalp, peeking down the nape of her neck and onto her shoulder.  Francis and me have this ‘thing’, and even …

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For The Love Of The System – Jimmi Campkin

It only takes the sound of glass breaking to remind me of the taste; wet concrete and burned rust.  Last week I sat in a bar facing a drizzly street and stared at my own reflection for hours as humanity shuffled by.  The gangly barman, who’d been hopelessly flirting with his co-worker, dropped 125mls of …

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