Larry Buttrose

T he world is all a carcass and vanity,     The shadow of a shadow, a play                                               ...

Exposed to the daylight like a mullet, The front wall sheared clean off, And there are we, suddenly, sitting In our living...

US edition, with a much nicer credit for me as ghost writer.

The cold remains of Sunday roast lay on the plate in front of me, the sprigs of cauliflower entombed in a sarcophagus of congealed ...