Z A beak of sleep, painted crudely on a tank, becomes tainted, reflected, a skewed boot, forever glancing off a surface; destructive and distasteful as O’Brien suggested. V Peace, askance, becomes a spade; a blade to dig a grave with; a tricky proposition in any city street. The school of matter over mind: predictive. Letters … Continue reading Face/Value
Jackdaws and witches tapping watches, stripping you to the bone. Some still can't say your name without stretching all the wrong vowels. I hear your voice, I'm ankle-deep in Bluebells. My red penknife unfolds. I'm scratching your initials. * Trap-doors every Monday morning. Cornflowers, my boots are soiled. The great birds, they are clapping the … Continue reading Jackdaws & Witches #dVerse #poetry
Originally published in GLEAM Many thanks to Lori and the editorial team at Gleam: Journal of the Cadralor for deciding to publish my Cadralor in their latest issue (iv). The form is relatively new to me and appealed at once because of its visual qualities. There is a filmic sense to Cadralor poetry that fits … Continue reading Stippling.
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