Hell is now for me a place where I breathe the last dregs of England out of my lungs, and the last trembling flare in the hand of the unknown solider dies. For the poet dreamer who wished, “All evil shed away,” that very evil now walks among us and is welcomed. So what of …
The wooden black board rubber that hit me on the head that day was large school issue. The teacher said: “You’ll never get a job as long as you got a hole in your arse!” He is not here today for me to tell him he was wrong. However, another teacher told me, I was …
Ancient moons where highway tunes claim those gone on the, ‘speechless seeking trails’ from yesteryear’s world. No funeral dirge for lost friends disappeared into that horizon, unless the sun has memories, their goneness has Passchendaele finality. Now in these evening years I wait, where autumn’s gate meets a frozen meadow, and human kind strive with …