The wall is a silent witness. The wall is an altar and an anvil. Claw hammer. Sea chisel. Skull cap. Sooty nail. The wall bristles, blooms like a fever dream, say a Santa Cruz beehive cactus.
‘Dipping Pond’ by Mary Anne Aytoun-Ellis Words: Clare Best After the seep through chalk, the underground flow, water gathers below the circus where footsteps come and go and a voice calls over tree fern, foxglove, bamboo for this or that person to please come now. The Bourne Garden, Glyndebourne 50° 52’ 45” N 0° 03’ […]
No place, really. A wooded drive past a pond filmed with algae, the house hunkering down like a cat sleepily watching what it might decide is prey. Wild ivy marrs orange brick, paint splits over damp wood. What life looks to such a place for repose? What repose is there? Perhaps, in summer, homebrew will […]
My mother’s last days were the end of a winter that had become only rolling blackout into blackout— a time I had no hold on. All news held a kind of dread but ours, when it came, felt like coming to. A dimness in an old room, a sense of certain things in absence. Two […]
In 2017, Corbel Stone Press began publishing a series of small, limited edition pamphlets that explore our relationship with the natural world. They are seeking the finest contemporary nature poetry that specifically engages with the themes of language, myth, the sacred, sentience, death, and regeneration. So far they have published two of the booklets, featuring […]