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Nothing, says ANDY HEDGECOCK, can rescue this undistinguished amalgam of ponderous melodrama and shallow philosophical speculation
Alan Buckley - Scum, 15/04/89
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter
JAMIE BRITTON invites readers to visit 3,500 locals as part of a marathon artistic pub crawl
JOHN GREEN welcomes a valuable and incisive analysis of a world become hyperpolitical but without the mass movement institutions to represent it
JAMES WALSH is moved by a provocative and original take on the relationship between ecology and architecture, and a plea to work with, not against, the materials and minerals of our world
An immersive, participatory display by a queer Australian Aboriginal performer, and a rebellious unravelling of traditional Scottish dance
Scum
15/04/89
Alan Buckley
I lay on the turf, under a steely sky.
No one picked my pockets. No one pissed
on me. The copper who gave me the kiss
of life wasn't beaten up. I died,
that's the truth; and though I'd never known
such closeness, our bodies like beans in a can,
when the air was squeezed from me I died alone.
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