Memory (Remove filter)
My Nan sleeps with Brian Jones
‘Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep
He hath awakened from the dream of life’
Jagger tugs weeds, rakes a bed
of graveyard shale,
drags a copper wire brush
through moss lumps
gathered by the guest book
and its dew dribbled plastic bag -
there to keep the water out.
He pulls cart-wheeling cellophane
from his shin,
paints a black shadow across the ultimate ...
Friday 1st October 2010 9:45 pm
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