Thursday, June 7, 2018

The Working Dead

Were they dead, or indifferently dozing?
These much-dreaded big stiffs, so imposing
They've strayed from their graves
And been made into slaves
Now they headily whiff, decomposing.

David Cairns

The dead rise up--right up into the nostrils. The Plague of the Zombies (John Gilling; 1966)

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