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.
