"a game of blindfold football"
complicated symptoms
captured in a snap
years of war outnumber
peace plus recent spate—
the sacrificial victims of the state
complicated rapture
cold battlefields rolled up
in the coruscating dawn
spawn of flycloud-clyte
the sacrificial victims of the state
I'm sorry, we don't have the drugs for this anymore.
"If I had a 'familiar' it would resemble less a nervous exotic animal than a chipped enamel sink. You would not find it on my shoulder but in its natural environment at the bottom of a derelict canal in the industrial Midlands. Our connection would be the source of my special powers, which would neither mimic nor metaphorise its qualities but be unmistakably sink-related. I would feel no emotion towards it even when events caused us to be separated and tortured. A sink can feel nothing. That is one of the baseline or default qualities of a sink. But wherever I went, I would know that out there, bedded in the mud beneath the slow black water, never more than a mile or two from my present location, its energies focussed, site-specific and calm, there my sink would be" —M John Harrison, Wish I Was Here (2023)
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