Where can you go to escape?
I talk to sheep
What is the best killing music?
Driving west, the sky is filthy
There's an old, treacherous, deep pain
We've hardly left and haven't arrived
With a field a cow, a yard and some chickens
We are all asleep and it is coming
Like the child who places hop upon the water
He wanted to be a soldier
My mother, my father, my fat aunties
I would have liked to have been a Dalek
We are here but where is that?
I am the other brother
They are burning books and paintings, let's go have fun!
I suspect she's foreign. Look at the eyes.
I need something honest, an old fat river
I must write in English for the cane is sharp
Better to anticipate or to remember?
We are made of stone and harsh winds
I just love it here. I think I will stay.
A house far off, one window glowing
In a panic, a forest of words
I have a plate, a bowl, knife, fork, spoon
I confess to doubts. I am human