Many Bird Roast

I came in, dandy and present arguing for a moratorium on meat of the kind splayed out on the table, legs akimbo like a fallen-over ice skater skidding on her …

Kissing Edwin Morgan

seems uncanny because he is gay and I am straight and because the day is especially cold. A hungry kisser, kissing him brings out the hive that is him. A …

john

i do not know my grandfather, who is a famous photographer who works primarily in black and white. although i know he is not a large man, i think of …

The Littlest Giant

In the bolted summer grass, he’s just another over-grown boy fiddling the stem of his pen, sipping a cup of tea.                 The …

I Watched a Soldier Aim as the Deaf Boy

I watched a soldier aim as the deaf boy took iron and fire in his mouth – his face on the asphalt, that map of bone and opened valves. It …

mineral intimacy

unabashedly love the minerals of you / I always was a wind-fuckèd gull for the White Cliffs pressd hard & lithic between the lower elements of yr lips / When …

Ancrene Wisse (commended poem: 2016 competition)

                                                                                         for homeless women everywhere OUTER RULE I : Of Devotions They have shaggy quads and, down inside their cowboy boots at least one cloven hoof, and, under silk that …

Colonsay (commended poem: 2016 competition)

From a certain    position it is possible to see a strange          agitation of light as sliding          frames and the slight adjustments of         falling rain assumed into the sea …

The Bittern (2nd prize: 2016 competition)

Mate-less marginal screened by reeds the other side of the marsh terrestrial averse to flight shy of light, never seen but guessed the buff barred breast-plumage wry neck angled heavenwards …

The Self-Made Man (1st prize: 2016 competition)

after The Abominable Dr Phibes Once you’ve redone your face – sat before the bloody canvas flinching under glass, stitched the quilt of jowls, broken in the nose, napkinned the …

House and Field

When Granny and Grandpa sold the old farmhouse and gave up their subscription to The Field, boxes of junk arrived for Dad to house and soon mildewed editions of The …

Fretwork

What comes moors itself like a claw or core. A child’s shoe built into a wall, dressmaker’s dummy mute and white among the trees. What comes knuckles sulfur and ulcers …

sloe

what was this, as blue as autumn evenings or black as the bible? hanging, in october’s showers, in the mists, so dry it shrivelled everything to bitterness? the sloe. we …

No More Mr Nice Guy

This then, what you actually witness here, before your very eyelids, is an actual blooming waste of time, in action, in real time. I squid you not, certain shall we …

The Poets

poem beginning with a line of John Clare   Poets love nature and themselves are love. Imagine an out-of-the-way cottage Close to dunes, the marram grass whispering Above technicolour snails …

Television Knows No Night

Oh open window, oh immobility of Nature, oh spectacle of emotional magniloquence, oh error about life entirely necessary, oh Miltonic angels of the subchannel, oh aspect ratio I’d love you …