by Paul Tristram / February 19th, 2017 Rocking gently like a harboured boatupon the muddy banked estuary of Penryn.I’ve never before witnessedtears trickle that slowly,sighs the depth of thunder,yet, with double the meaning and importance.To hear a woman cry and moanfrom the Soul like that… Jesus…strangles colour and magic from the day.Flatlines both hope and … Continue reading Amongst The Wreckage Of Wednesday Morning I Found Her Curled Up Like Sunday And Alone