The Big Society

Angry villagers seek out evidence of scientific progress

Primitive Survival

I dug an animal trap beneath my eye.
I grew a stain of leaf-mould to cover it
And hide the work of necrotising insects.
At the corners of the horizon
Oil-winged predators slip from my view
Leaving the smell of burnt fish-skins
And the taste of charcoal.
The soft rotting pops in my ears

The Eye is the Devil's Doorway

The Choir

Earless forger and gifted academic

The King and Queen of the Violently Dead

April on Eyjafjallajökull

From the Bloomsbury Zoological Garden