When I published Breaking Glass in Your Tomb Again, I forget where I was but a voice came to me. It was my voice but not my voice. It had a slight Birmingham accent and it said: You’re a maggot in the dirt now mate. And I interpreted it, this brain noise. And it meant like I was now a kind of poet of splatter: jism, dirt, flow, blood. I’m unsure what that means. But it sounds okay. I sold nine copies of my novel. It was inspired by worm of worms like Shem Penman and Murphy and Molloy, the highstyle in the bible, SHXPR.