|Title||The Grocer's Itch|
|Dimensions||105 x 180mm|
|Format||Risograph printed, saddle stitched|
The smell of pine sap fills the bathroom
while interviews about love and lovemaking
play through those speakers disguised as rocks,
you find them in pub gardens.
A short suite of poems featuring itchy noises; architecture and its discontents; time's syllabic drag; the sting of language as it oozes into cuts between fingers; and so, writing about writing; administrative work at bedtime and other ambiguous grammars.