Jim Stewart, ‘Balgay Hill

04 Aug, 2014 By Daniel Cook With Comments are off for this post

There once was rhododendron, among graves shadowed by cypress; and in that rubbish of breakable twig and bough with the green-black dust, cradles, where blackbird hearts jumped in their huddled eggs, speckles gathered at the fat ends, no batch the same. Always there was an abandoned clutch. The yolk could be blown through careful punctures,

Continue Reading →