by kvennarad


The theory that every sixth building

on a city street used by law to be a

fish-and-chip shop can only be tested

by walking and observing smartphone in

hand to fix GPS and make photographic

record of the urban geological evidence;


(drawn down, the rules for making paper

cut-out animals could not be simpler;

each swan/hippo boar/bull goat/whale

is invested with a word in Times New

Roman, some italic, most not, all

making sense entering two-by two)


having success for three counts the fourth

fails, the building being derelict as are the

ones each side and impossible to identify

as (perhaps) a quondam chapel or firestation

tall, that tower being a campanile or for

drying hoses, cherrypick practice rescue


(chase down the sense of it all, raven/dove

deserting/returning to renew a narrative

of slow resistance serpent/ape dog/deer

build your own tower/pyre as the words

fall/burn and the testimony with them

that it will be a fire not a flood, hoc signo)


the fifth is a house but windows unglassed

and doorway naked where an African family

sleeps in beds spaced so narrowly they fill

the whole room; the sixth a bare plot filled

with beds of the elderly, some in three sides

of a container; the road steepens, hedged,


(no paper animals now but ad hoc signs to

encampments then a peaty track, “The moor

by Hanger Lane” curving round to a terrible

view in rainclouds; to use the smartphone,

cling to the hillside, embracing fear, no

bootgrip, gull/eagle, towerful, towerfire)


jupiter©Marie Marshall