Tag Archives: Iain Twiddy

Patchy

When the city is finally swiping from winter, the glassy expanse stranding limpeting patches as if crystal clouds had impacted, leaking black slicks like the last of a dying, ice-age beast, and when like a tide, the wind switches in, … Continue reading

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Four Months

Four months here you dig out of the snow, the nails scraping off, the plastic blade of the shovel bending and blunt, the hands scaled like a fish raw with blood, arms like frozen boughs a twist could snap, brain … Continue reading

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Okurayama

All afternoon people have been jumping from the frozen hill over the city: seal-headed, seal-skinned through the polar flows, skis measuring the length of a coffin, clacky as crane legs, backwards arrowheads flinging up from the tuck into the lift … Continue reading

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Winter Cloud

And this, dagger-slit, big sails of cloud through which the winter comes tumbling through. The ice creaks like the joints of a ship. The tower blocks stand like shattered masts, coffin freight the rats have abandoned, while cloaked bones spirit … Continue reading

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