The History Displays: Part Two – A Poem

I am with you Dedalus I run but am cast so precisely by the nightmare of history that I flow inexorably where the curve of eschatology takes me I can break my hands forever under millennial tonnes of creed cracking meanings in vain I am not shaper but shaped Clean I would be a mirror... Continue Reading →

The History Displays: Part One – A Poem

We cannot speak out-shouted by history where we should cry we bleed We don't need self-pity that wears itself out refusing cures and cries "I hurt, so you cannot cut me." before wielding its own knife But that is who we are and what we have our goodness murdered with the past We don't need... Continue Reading →

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