tome.

tome. Pull the plug. The Drain’s glug is greedy.

Swallowed the eye’s glint, gone on to the next thing.

Anchored shadows watch as heaving dregs of sobs dig deep,

all rivers flow / all roads lead.

Tune to the current - discordant,

inasmuch as it is infinite mystery.

Leave shore, surface, reef, floor and form,

leave home bereft above / below unknown.

Make a marked change on your form,

leave behind only structural support,

brick and bone for basic building.

His skin was like leather - my grandfather’s.

He used to garden completely naked

soaked in soil and tobacco.

He used to play the organ in cathedrals.

Now he’s on the internet.

You can summon him with the left click of a mouse.

 

tome. is a collaboration with digital artist Sean Cotterill. Built around the framework of an Anglican funeral, tome. uses a grandmothers story of falling into the moon as a child to consider death and grief.

 
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