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A collection of 93 poems infused with a vapourific view of the author’s own alcohol-induced take on life, the world and the culture he inhabits. Karl Consiglio writes as he thinks and makes no concession to language snobbery or class distinctions. It’s as raw as flesh, so if it hurts at least you know you’re still alive. Challenging, refreshing and darkly cynical, they are also an incisive portrait of what it was like for anyone growing up around Paceville in the late 80’s and early 90’s.
Dirty Fields
We were kids
Playing in a dirty field
I found myself
Some wire
I began to spin it
Like a propeller
An old man
Appeared out of nowhere
And approached me
“Hello” he said with a sneaky tone
And as he got closer
I accidentally struck him
With the wire I was spinning
“You hurt me” he said
And walked off
And I resumed to my play
In the distance
I see him bending down
And my little brother giving him a kiss
On his bald patch.
