by Simon Norris Hello old friend, Remember me? You know me not, But all you see of me Is a memory There is no time like […]
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‘Train Station Tear Tracks – On Trauma’
by Aaron Cawood Lights up. The bench at the train station; we sit. Only, now, in Act Two, I smile, In spite of the crowd – I feed the first line. And because you are there, I smile throughout the Act. As, because you are there, sirens pass in quiet. And, because you are there, […]
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The Poor Print 