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John Cassidy on Roger Garfitt [with Reply]
1975
Iowa Review : literary quarterly
Here weather is the change a shadow makes in the shape on a wall, and the hours a depth in the colour of the stone, a past that we commute to, old centres only the banks can afford. Bus queues line the Cornmarket, bound for the outer estates. The fare stage is in Old French. 3 Pitched into fields, on hillsides where the post-war tide left them, before the next high water. Seven prefabs are still here to recall our origins. The hill's first settlement. We walk to the shops at the Top. We wait at
doi:10.17077/0021-065x.1940
fatcat:unenn54arbhj5it6tgyhepgkfm