Draw the blind on roofs of vein-blue lead. Your heart will beat through spine, chest, nipple and neck, send dream down your vertebrae. Sleep, as morning sun founds an empire of shadow around the fountains of the Tuileries, a tide of shutters recede from patisseries, the canary’s eyes blink open on the balcony, a … Continue reading ‘Bonjour Tristesse’ by Roy Marshall