Author Archives: James Steerforth

About James Steerforth

I am an author of poetry and fiction, translator and painter who loves to have fun with borrowed feathers.

Oh memory

Posted on July 22, 2018

Trieste, somewhere near Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia, a youngish woman exiting a gelateria with a cone stacked high. Made me think of a sack due to the shapeless brown dress, which seemed to cover a heavy structure. And immediately I thought … Continue reading →

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For hire

Posted on March 31, 2018

You see, my immense success is all due to that watch – it all started with that watch, which projects just the right image of wealth and manliness. And now I’m the owner of a nice red car, a monkey … Continue reading →

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The WTF poem

Posted on March 6, 2018

“WTF – I wonder how that is pronounced…” “Not that easy to say, it being Proto-Srpko-Pannonian. Not at all what you would guess from the spelling. Probably sounded like hwiss, the final f generally being mute for all we know.” … Continue reading →

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Happy ending

Posted on December 9, 2017

That’s what YOU call a happy ending: you plundered our joint bank account, maxed out our credit cards and ran off with the Austrian masseur who looks like Arnold reborn and is twenty-eight years younger than you. While I’m home … Continue reading →

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A confession. Sort of.

Posted on May 12, 2017

I know it’s not really an excuse, as if I gave a damn anyhow, but one night when my dad had grounded me and both my parents the jerks were out I got fucking drunk while listening to music and … Continue reading →

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I could definitely like that cutie

Posted on March 3, 2017

“Hey!” A short-haired blonde with freckles and a turned-up nose had come to a stop to let her Labrador or whatever that big black thing was take a dump at my entrance. “Yes?” “Better clean that up!” A mischievous nod … Continue reading →

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The target

Posted on December 1, 2016

“Target is crossing street. Following.” “Love that swaying little ass of hers.” “Shut up, Jeremy.” “Wonder what she’s done that we’re going after her.” “Target keeps looking back, seems nervous.” “Reminds me of Diana. Lady Di.” “Don’t need your puerile … Continue reading →

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