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Methinks
Penny Rimbaud

Through that paper-thin mask of Holy War,
it was the contorted face of intrigue I saw
smiling with the guile of a serpent,
speaking in tongues
wherein the truth that is known
is not the truth told,
but the pity of truth cancered:
yet still the lie was sold.

New edition of poem originally published to coincide with The Sound of Stones in the Glass House exhibition 2006.

210mm x 138mm, pp.8. Printed on Strathmore 118gsm wove, sewn into black card cover with red fly leaves. Hahnemühle Bugra Butten 130gsm black wrapper and letterpress printed title plate.

Hand numbered edition of 100

SOLD OUT

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