Poem: ‘Visions of Labour’
Lawrence Joseph, 18 June 2015
I will have writings written all over it in human words: wrote Blake. A running form, Pound’s Blake: shouting, whirling his arms, his eyes rolling, whirling like flaming cartwheels. Put it this way, in this language: a blow in the small of the back from a rifle butt, the crack of a blackjack on a skull, face beaten...