Poetry
Summer/ Autumn 1997
Detour
It's not just my body bunked down with you in front of the catching coal fire lighting up as easy as what lit us. It was impossible to decipher which […]
Poetry
Summer/ Autumn 1997
The Cure
(to my father) I drop into the printers and I graft to you with my hangover on hearing the tall drinking tales of your craft from an apprentice of yours, […]