Tincture by Bob Beagrie

Bob Beagrie’s ‘Tincture’ walks us perfectly through a numb haze. It employs claustrophobia and disjointedness as he paces the familiar rooms of his home which become a parallel word of strangeness. He is ‘inhabiting her slumberlands’. The sharp dart of the words ‘parietal lobe’ are like a stone thrown into a stifled pond. It is … Continue reading Tincture by Bob Beagrie