Artificial Weather
Buoyant skies linger overhead, bulging at the seams with surging intent; capricious threats that fall indiscriminately against the statistical fortitude of our modelled routines. Searching
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Buoyant skies linger overhead, bulging at the seams with surging intent; capricious threats that fall indiscriminately against the statistical fortitude of our modelled routines. Searching
As weathers change the birds migrate, Flocking en masse like living freight; They have decanted overseas, The notes of birdsong on the breeze. In