should an agency cleaner in the basement of the British Museum find in some forgotten room an old earthenware lamp and choose to rub it, rub it... Continue reading
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Darkening by Steve Pottinger for george under a darkening skywe sit round a log fireout there cities are burningthe planet is burning and i can’t breathe out... Continue reading
Glass collector by Steve Pottinger Let us sing of the mouse-quiet collectorof glasses, clearer of plates, wiper of tables, he who returns sauce bottles to their allotted... Continue reading
Showing 21–24 of 24 posts