Grey as the watery dawn, wet with the guts of frogs, the blood of moorhen chicks, Ardea Cineriae: ghosts upon the foreshore, patient for fish and history. Separate and sentinel, misplaced milestones, attendants to the helicoidal flow which undermines the river bank (the sliding snake that slowly eats the water-meadow).
During the month of The Kowloon I parted ways with my employer rain degged the raby mere where misspelled headstones sprung up like strangled teeth during the month of The Golden Wheel I returned home a man answered the door a messianic man at my mother’s side I ran toward Friday’s field a traveller dispute […]
Oyster by Michael Pedersen, with illustrations by Scott Hutchison (Birlinn, paperback, 128 pages. Out now and available here) Review by Will Burns In a world whose machinery has become increasingly greased with hate, a love poem can certainly be charged with radicalism. For Graves, they may have had to be bounced off the moon, but […]
The Promised Land: Poems from Itinerant Life by André Naffs-Sahely (Penguin, paperback, 80 pages. Out now) Review by Robert Selby ‘All my life, I’ve felt like a Jew, or a Gipsy, or some hapless scion of a lost wandering tribe’, writes André Naffis-Sahely in his poem ‘This Most Serene Republic’, ‘But they, at least, have […]
From Cot: A Cornish Valley, a collection of new work currently being exhibited at the Jackson Foundation Gallery. Kurt Jackson on Caught by the River