On Wenlock Edge

Photography by Jay Cool On Wenlock Edge, Jay Cool’s in trouble. With frizzed-up fringe, the Wrekin heaves; The gale, it plies her old bones double, And sick of Severn breeze, she leaves. ‘Twould blow like this through holt and hanger. When Uricon the city stood. The Roman farts, expressing anger, At Jay Cool’s claim toContinue reading “On Wenlock Edge”