There’s this small coastal town you visited when you were seven years old. Ice cream dripping down your chin and onto the pavement, that glassy stone staring up at you in bubblegum pink. The barely lucid memory of the sun beaming over you. Hands pressed into the mounded rocks. Everyone scooped molluscs into their […]
The October sky blazed blue and the sun shone on a sea of canvas pagodas in a factory car park. Over 700 people sat between banners that read: stop speculation, stop the genocide and stop arming Israel. An exhibition of Palestinian art hung from the fences. A stall offering Working Class Beer stood opposite […]
Read More… from If They Bury Us, We Will Be Seeds
Anne Enith Cooper
he says, whose preferred flag is a blank cheque. on mornings made pejorative with foxes. pissy macho stink of them on everything. the grim, diminished sting of drill, its glitchy phobic diss and bleat. stuck on repeat. like foxes. solja boys gekkering thin threat up from behind the wheelie bins. these, our russet buccaneers, sarcoptic […]