The Human’s Race and B-Roads


The Humans’ Race and B-Roads

The sky is flat today, crushed

and beaten boldest blue, and clouds

by spadefuls exquisitely-turned


in chiselled weather. I pick my way

on polished roads, icy transparent

blue veins reflecting direction.


Ethereal maps without origin or end,

and it matters not which way I choose,

not when you live on an island.




Inspired by Martin Chuzzlewit

By Charles Dickens

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