Jan 262016

…so a body was found here last April – foreign, arm-scarred and illegal, child become man become corpse become cadaver – and I return again and again: these are, let’s face it, fields which are hilly, these are quiet, past-sugared fields which stick hard town to soft country like unwanted kisses, these are holy fields which once offered a bold cover-version of hope – autumnal rhythms and soft mists and tight desires and wet socks – and they lead, if you follow me, through the woods to the viaduct, the viaduct we called Fourteen Arches for reasons that escape me and I shiver with now echoes of then voices bouncing and booming and dubbing and rising as the pissed trains pass above us in the sober rain and, almost certainly, my soul will be found here one day soon Continue reading »

 Posted by at 4:03 pm

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