Skip to main content
Read page text
page 10
3. Slugs I awoke in the dark. Perhaps I was delirious, but I had dreamed all the sunflowers were eaten by enormous mouths. A hundred, I’d say, gone overnight, and the seeds hardly split. Yes, I am coming to realise that the only horrors are in my head. 4. Oyster Shells Sleet off the sea blinds the right eye. Under my boots these faces of old men at their gruel, their blue craniums. Meanwhile the wind is blowing everything backwards and flaying the duneskins into the sky. 5. The Nettle Picker The next day my fingers throb pale and purple, the poisoned nerves at least alive. I took the crowns with the pollen on them through a mist of webs. Now, here’s a black tonic I stir from a half-remembered spell. 8
page 11
6. Anglers How tedious were the fishermen. Always the same enticement: log on, log on, the wonders await. But I prefer the midnight swell and the moon that dips its sickle in the surf. 7. Nocturne The clouds flaked with gold leaf, the sea burning. And I wonder why I am writing this down, knowing what I know, dreading what I dread. Perhaps I should call a truce with myself. 8. The New World This castaway’s life? I curse it: scoffing scurvygrass, burying my scat. I thought when the smoke cleared there would be a different world. But though my driftwood fires are blue as Sirius each brings a new apostasy. 9

Page Text

View plaintext

3. Slugs

I awoke in the dark. Perhaps I was delirious, but I had dreamed all the sunflowers were eaten by enormous mouths. A hundred, I’d say, gone overnight, and the seeds hardly split. Yes, I am coming to realise that the only horrors are in my head.

4. Oyster Shells

Sleet off the sea blinds the right eye. Under my boots these faces of old men at their gruel, their blue craniums. Meanwhile the wind is blowing everything backwards and flaying the duneskins into the sky.

5. The Nettle Picker

The next day my fingers throb pale and purple, the poisoned nerves at least alive. I took the crowns with the pollen on them through a mist of webs. Now, here’s a black tonic I stir from a half-remembered spell.

8

read next page

My Bookmarks

Buy this Book
Skip to main content