Down the vien;
organs speak,
the sorry soft blow of denizens
the balaconies packed with meat below the nightingale,
the male a good way of looking at female

The islands of our dreams that cast out giants,
possible only by the hate of civility, calmed by red
forcing all shadows to have skin
as they weigh themselves no more,
only by light, swallowing cities by Waterloo.


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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