Kelp by Paul Farley

A puppet forest has gone to wrack and ruin: it rubbernecked the prom but lies unspooled now on the rocks. Two shows a day, the celluloid of the sea. We're building a projector from a tide-pool's moving parts, the salt driftwood, smooth plastics, and the snarls of rope that come in blues, oranges and greens.… Continue reading Kelp by Paul Farley