I skimmed my eyes over the algae to FlatfordAnd breathed in Constable’s lungs. DirtyClouds and gaps in the treeline rest, obscured by hands1 2(And) 3.Our East Anglian-Indian summer bounced in placeOf water-bound dogs and haywains. Painting inPastel over well-revised frondescence and clay. I thoughtForward from my memorialBench to how I might discolourThis moment in more... Continue Reading →