V. grateful to Alex at Fiction Hub for accepting and publishing my poetic prose “Terrific Typist”
Prose Poem
The Matter of England
I stroll the matter of England
every workday. Recall rich
ancestral lords use miners sweat
lay clanking rails, raise putrid stench,
employ.
I walk the matter of England
see lives snatched by unmarked
uniforms, history laid waste
to make a point and remove sting
of sweated labour
I tread the matter of England everytime I chronicle the artificial lake, pit demolished, rails removed, soil has been moved on, seasonal.
Decipher its taste when we in/exhale its dust, decode invasions private/public, ingest new blood, remember old.
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The Psychonaturalist Notes
Reedflare flamereed flickerflicker emberkernels lap air, conflagration without heat
In the lap of the grain as it breaks against gust
Amongst reedsway, cootcall, waveruffle, barkgangsign, trunksundials
Amongst Geese and Seagull echoes perfect reflections under a halfmoon and quiet blue
Evensong of last bell before eyeshorizon darkens and thought
sinks into eyes well to fetch waters reverie into light.
Winter colours layered weather bittercoldflares inside skin, cloudsputter sharpcinder ice crackles faces.
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The Wombwell Rainbow 