Poem: ‘Your Friend the Drifter’
Ken Smith, 21 June 1984
Too many years up and down the world chasing some light that goes out. She’s always moved, the job turns out to be some people talking in a train.
Some work up cures for new diseases, some we never see decode our traffic. Others are mapping the new dictatorships, others the movies they will make of them.
But all night long I have been underwater mining the harbours off Nicaragua, I need...