The Drought
Perverse, powerless, swelling in your barns, fruit and produce, blight and mildew. And on the land, the cattle fall. Frustration, sworn to soil and dust, the sand beneath you burning, the seasonal rain, nowhere and deserting, there is no cure. the rose vineyard, totally devastated, by ruin and madness.
University Braille
Technical diagrams raised a millimetre high. White glossy paper, shining in the glow of an underground train. Her eyes burn and squint erratically, her soft hands gliding smoothly across pages, caressing hydrocarbons and other compounds in a textbook. Butane, methane, propane. Ethanol and methanol, fine black detail on white paper shining. Written by Jack Brewis
Fava Beans
Tonight’s soup with crusty bread, as on Saturday, but tonight with Fava beans from Franks. A dirty window-box overflowing from above when I arrived, poor Mrs Rodriguez, her hand trembling on the watering-can, immensely irritating, splashing on fresh trousers collected from the dry cleaner, a quick bite before the show, War Horse in a West