<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Bound for Glory<\/strong><\/p>\n My lungs are echoed in black <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n David Ross Linklater<\/strong> was born in the Highlands of Scotland and now lives in Glasgow. Last year he achieved an HNC in Professional Writing at City of Glasgow College and is now studying Journalism. You can follow him on Twitter @DavidRossLinkla<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Bound for Glory My lungs are echoed in black the way the sky is patched blue come afternoon I am hanging from the splinters of my tongue in the open-eye instant of reckoning where everything is equal and the head splitting reminds me of the hot bottle of fire with which we […]<\/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-8633","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8633","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=8633"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8633\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8635,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8633\/revisions\/8635"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8633"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8633"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8633"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthe way the sky is patched blue
\ncome afternoon
\nI am hanging
\nfrom the splinters of my tongue
\nin the open-eye instant of reckoning
\nwhere everything is equal
\nand the head splitting
\nreminds me of the hot bottle of fire
\nwith which we doused the night\u2014dancing wildly in a room full of sick tables\u2014
\nshouting out that we were bound for glory
\nor a slow train to the heart of the bottom.<\/p>\n