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Category Archives: Prose Poems

New! My Piccadilly Circus flash fiction is featured on the latest audio release at The Casket of Fictional Delights:

http://www.thecasket.co.uk/tubeflashaudio/keep-moving/

The online magazine Apocrypha and Abstractions ‘Flash fiction musings for the literary minded’ have published my work ‘Mary and the Reptiles’.

http://apocryphaandabstractions.wordpress.com/current-issue/

Another London Underground Tube Flash Prose Poem published online.  This one is about Piccadilly Circus and doomed love…

http://www.thecasket.co.uk/tubeflash/the-lovers/

My piece of flash fiction called A Walk in the Park, about Green Park Tube Station has now been unleashed on the public at the rather interesting project, Tube Flash, part of the Casket of Fictional Delights.  Have a look here:

http://www.thecasket.co.uk/tubeflash/a-walk-in-the-park/

The Ironic Fantastic issue 1 which features my absurd prose poem The Clockwork Sun is now available in ebook form here:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/347970

Another 100 Horrors has just been released, including my own flash fiction, ‘Winter of Abomination’.  Here’s a link:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Another-100-Horrors-Kevin-Bufton/dp/1489514279/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371240425&sr=8-1&keywords=another+100+horrors

It’s also going to be released as an e-book, so I’ll post those details when they’re available.

A manikin the colour and texture of rust sits on the porch roof, head bowed. The concrete block house stands alone, in an island between three roads, overlooked by offices. The windows are covered by metal panels, as if the house is repossessed, rather than a memorial, a gravestone to the poet Thomas Chatterton.

Next time I see the house, the manikin has moved, now his eyeless and featureless face turned towards the main road. The traffic stands still, fuming,

The next day, he sits on a flaking green metal chair in the paved front garden, head in his hands. “Paint me an angel with wings, and a trumpet, to trumpet my name over the world,” he says. The stone house behind him is silent. The road is solid with city commuter cars and buses ticking over. The offices are lost in their dreams of profit, vacated by all but the most committed (this is Friday). And me? I’m no angel and I have my own story.

Photo: Interesting... The home of Thomas Chatterton, Bristol