One of the pleasures of working with language is the sense of discovery: learning a new word; finding a seldom used meaning of a known word; uncovering an obsolete meaning that hints at a word’s historical provenance.
Copyright Urban Mole 2018
We’ve had a little pause in publication here at the Mole due to the editor being knocked down by a Polo; seems both the front and the back of VWs are dangerous.
Copyright 2018 Karin Mora
1. He slept through several snoozes, cancelling the last. The call from his boss finally roused him.
An MMA friend of mine misread “martial artist” and applied for a scheme which saw him take up a three month residency on Mars. He’s charming and athletic and probably NASA had the final say on who went.
Copyright 2018 Karin Mora
What was the name of the poet who helped me during Resolute Cliff?
Copyright Urban Mole 2017
What if Trump’s first interview as president were taken as found poetry and read as a libretto? And what if it were spliced with John Adams’ opera, Nixon in China?
Copyright Urban Mole 2017
When the Martians arrived above New Jersey in 1938, panic spread among the credulous [1]. People couldn’t flee far enough, partly because they were left breathless from all the screaming, but mostly because there was no way to outpace a threat so fast moving as to be near-omnipresent. A potentially hostile force had crossed the American border.
Copyright Urban Mole 2016
Trust is a mountaineer’s rope made from the laces of dead climbers’ shoes. It is predicated on truth values but incorporates fallibility because often the thing you trust, or the class of thing you trust, has been known to fail. Scientists sometimes lie, air planes occasionally fall from the sky. Trust becomes a matter of probability, if you’re so inclined to calculate it. If not, let someone calculate it for you and trust their results.
Copyright Urban Mole 2016
Not, as the title might suggest, because he is a narcissistic arse who seeks to demoralise his foes and shame his friends one undulation at a time. His costume is a construct designed to closely adhere to the physical representation of the Platonic Form that Superman is: a bulging powerhouse. Coincidentally, this is exactly what a sonnet is not.
kiki bouba, Copyright Urban Mole 2016
I read a German children’s book on woods and woodland creatures recently, and found myself stuck on page fifteen saying “hohl, hohl, hohl” like a Danish Santa Claus. It means hollow, and it makes hollow when you say it. Hohl. It’s connected to words like English hole and cave (holh in Old English). Say it at night at the edge of the woods and a bat will fly into your mouth.
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