March 2012
14 posts
4 tags
Adrienne Rich - Diving into the Wreck →
5 tags
“…it’s a flask of canal water, tinged with rum; / a stormy ale...”
– work in progress for the Penning Perfumes project
4 tags
9 tags
Mother of Pearl
a sky like rained on whipped cream
birth stones raked through a pond
palette of eye colours
the swoop of a lavish bird at dusk
an aged mirror sky, all flatter and swoon
pearl-cool lychees,
sugar-dusted jelly, icing the glitz
of a tipped-out button box
newly calcimined sky, clean
as fresh almonds
spring bluebells – the polar ice
This...
4 tags
5 tags
Spell For A Sulking Room
Drab, low as an underskirt mood · limescale-dull water
glass · laundry pile tipped inside-out · wasted spray
of drooping ferns · moth wings palmed on the wall
· wine unravelled storytell · evaporate a quiet face ·
deliriums of discontent · wring out the shabby lungs
· chide the tick of a parlour clock · amethyst-eyed
in your swooning bed, remember this about to happen
6 tags
from Denise Riley's 'Lure'
“I roam around around around around acidic yellows, globe
oranges burning, slashed cream, huge scarlet flowing
anemones, barbaric pink singing, radiant weeping When
will I be loved?”
9 tags
7 tags
To a Runaway Child
‘Lull’d in these flowers’
From the sleep of the glade
sunburn will begin to tell,
at a felled tree’s bridge
among the bluebell sprawl.
Escaped light evolves leaf
cells, exposes hides, buds,
irregular breeds; swallows
skate a few miles south;
an apple, caught in the river’s
rip, gently bobs. Elements
correspond: this plant’s essence
soothes skin puckered
by the flare, wild...
3 tags
“I like a rut. People call me up and say, “I hope I’m not disturbing...”
– The Philosophy of Andy Warhol
3 tags
Emotional State Seen Through a Pale-Haired Fringe
Dawn is coloured sweetpea and warbles with birds.
From bed, you notice how dust garlands
your fake yellow roses, but what now could
be gained by licking them clean? You could
plan menus, polish the mirrors, call your Mother
and sweep the yard. Cleanliness, if not calm
in your reach. But, sultry as a storm, you lack
resources for comfort: the last velvet sleep;
...
