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Back Alley<\/strong><\/p>\n He found himself in a back alley; <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Andrew Shields<\/strong> is an American buy lasix without perscription<\/a> poet who lives in Basel, Switzerland, where he teaches at the University of Basel English Department. His collection Thomas Hardy Listens To Louis Armstrong<\/em> was published by Eyewear in 2015, and he has also released an album with his band Human Shields, Somebody’s Hometown<\/em>. You can find him online on Facebook <\/a>and Bandcamp<\/a>:<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Back Alley He found himself in a back alley; no one was there with a knife. The black cat was only sleeping in the only sliver of sunlight it had been able to find. With nowhere to hide, no dumpsters to sort through, no forgotten boxes, he could not continue his story. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12093","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12093","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12093"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12093\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12685,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12093\/revisions\/12685"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12093"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12093"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12093"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nno one was there with a knife.
\nThe black cat was only sleeping
\nin the only sliver of sunlight
\nit had been able to find.
\nWith nowhere to hide, no dumpsters
\nto sort through, no forgotten boxes,
\nhe could not continue his story.
\nAll that was left was to walk
\nout to the street and hope that the light
\nwould turn green just in time
\nfor him to cross as if his life
\ndepended on it, as if
\nhe had somewhere to go.<\/p>\n