Spiritual In a dissenter church stripped of ornament, where a pew insists on bolt-uprightness, and bare drably coloured walls dreep with condensation and plain wainscoting and floorboards smell of creosote where, ransacked of trappings, surplus counts for nothing and a scripture’s verbatim speaks extempore, fetters to raw material all there is: this clayey foregone soul fraught in a signless expanse between constellation and a braking wave once and forever. from For Crying Out Loud (Salmon Poetry, 2017)
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Edward DennistonHuman Archives
March 2022
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