it was like
those rambling narratives,
in blackened air
with episodic backstreets
to corrupt the nights
on to the streets.
those sooty accounts
of nightlife thick
as a potter’s hand –
so nocturnal picaresque
that enclaves turned
fluid as gender
on a spurious
Written for Miz Quickly’s Stone Nail Soup. Text found and remixed from The Public Domain Review and image (cc-0) archive.org
The Vestige of an Honest Man
He was not one for a steady existence,
indulging in extract of missionary.
Prepared. Inhaled. A curious state.
Kept from an honest livelihood –
an instrument of his own pull down.
Found and remixed text from an article in the Times,
Tweeted by The Times Archive Editor on Twitter.