Mainland people with anger in their hearts
The odour of rivers
Clear pink lips, a dark tongue
COBALT
She lived in a thick fog of illness
BALL
Fresh bread, my mother's hands
COPPER
And dreams of Xmas drums
TIN
Festivals, Processions, the long road to dying
Schizophrenia
We do not right old wrongs, only re-arrange them
Old Tyres, a dog on a chain
I used to think that love was all enough
The bullock strains
The c's in focaccia
I cannot find my invisible ink
Father, will you dance?
GRAPHITE
We must continue mourning; the skies are still dark
PURPLE
Even the sheep are staring
Text-Ting!
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