From The River Next Door Taff valley, Quakers Yard 1. The garden comes down to the river… with drowned corn-dolls of flood-wrack in the wire, our fiction of a border, the last post up-torn, up-tangled, rammed back at an angle in the grey silt with baroque scrunched lager cans, one flip-flop, and a corrugated rust-fret […]
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