Eye down doe

The last time I saw weaves burst into a glacier becomes your sea
where I have worked on broken wood during chamber
burrrt if its something more like a fealty: to a mirror: because you are dead
then, in the burst film of progeny fused with glowing feet
there are no books made of steam, I choose which animal
has a limb made of light.

I have such a strange feeling that we’re going to
create new ways, of taking our question
and labouring; and chime of skin
since all the space we learn
is made for the dance
that makes hemispheres bow, where eyes are surely to do the same.


is Raoul Moat in a boat. His first words were ‘Newky Brown’. As well as being our most prolific writer, René also creates graphic art, paintings and screenplays.

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