Sonnet, woven over poets’ weekend, to birdsong, kisses, blue socks, caresses; long baths, silk scarves and Lichtenstein dresses. Vacate the room by eleven a.m. On honeymoon sheets. The duvet is penned by second breakfast: Zimmerman verses; the cadence of their kitchen voices. Bend the bow, release; villanelle ascend the roads and bridges of Northumbria. Greetings … Continue reading Sonnet (Bus To Dungeon Ghyll).
1 The frame is glazed with October hugging brick and black mackintosh, anvil noise, pedestrian crush. 2 Train-bent, late and suddenly lost, I search my face for tell tale signs. Pulp paperback roof for my head. 3 With pockets of galleon moths a jam jar collection of copper I thumbed The Road To Wigan Pier. … Continue reading I Thumbed The Road To Wigan Pier
Tuesday 23 November 2014 Crystal Palace I have marked out the bare boards in the front room with black masking tape. It is a rectangle (5m x 3m: van size). Everything that is coming north from here is stacked precariously within the space: cardboard boxes marked with felt tip - art, bedding, books, cds, cutlery, … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island…30
nickreeves 