Rain fell for days
grey green wet wind
fences get mossy
traintracks and mausoleums
bricks blacken, mud moves
coulds descend in silence
Picking up bones out of gravel
after the flood’s gone into the ground
fossilised shell comes to light
under the grey clouds rainbow.
Rocks roll into the road
thistles and wild vines spread
cupped things hold rain
stagnating in lost jars
hidden below leaves.
Picking up bones out of gravel
after the flood’s gone into the ground
fossilised shell comes to light
under the grey clouds rainbow.
The old courthouse smells of dried wood. no one is ever there except the lady who sells postcards but she stays in her room, or the spot just outside the door, suspiciously.
Upstairs we played the old pump organs dustily, a creaky melody wheezes and reverbs around ridiculous sewing machines in other rooms. The pigeon-ey belfry is roped-off, the stairs get darker and hotter, it must be dangerous and probably haunted.
In 2019, I was in Salisbury and attended the Alphabet Business Convention without knowing any artist. Lost Crowns was my favourite band that played there. Pablo P.