Crown of Air

This poem should be read as the poetic companion piece to my essay Covid-19: Agent of Change, which I posted last week. I haven't wrote a new poem for ages. I expect on finishing my MA I will write poetry enthusiastically, I still think in it at least, I just don't stop, as I inveterately …

My Review of Polly Robert’s ‘Grieving with the Animals’ up at The High Window Press

It's been a while since I posted anything. I just can't seem to find the time despite a multitude of things I'd love to write & post, owing to my recent indulgence into an MA in English Literary Studies at Exeter University. My studies are mycorrhizally fruitful, bringing me up-to-yet uncharted insights. The future of …

“Animals are in Communion” and other poems by Polly Roberts

I met Polly through friends, & being told she was a poet, meeting her I just got a good feeling she was legit; she sent me her latest book ‘Grieving with the Animals’ & reading just the first few pages I knew that my initial assumption was correct. Here is a body of poems, authentic in their tone of feeling, pressing in their effect & imperative as an annex to the growing oeuvre of Anthropocene poetry.
In October a review I wrote for The High Window will be published, so I am glad you can get a window into the poems before then through Chris Murray’s inimitable Poet Head. Enjoy.

Poethead

Animals are in Communion

I came home

to find him

doing nothing.

Limp armed.

Could do nothing.

Sat on the sofa

lost to the world.

I have some bad news

I’ve been seeing ghosts. Birds on water.

The day before I received the news, two swans flew low over my head. Their wings thrummed
like a helicopter.
Eyes turned to watch the rescue vehicle, and instead saw white bellies.
The sound travelled, nothing like their usual flapping, as they soared over and onto water.

Returning to my boat, a shadow shifted on the river bank. A furry creature – small, sleek – edged
its way through the grass, took a moment to drink, then slop, slipped in.

Animals are in communion for you.

As are we,

nosing each other’s armpits

as we bed in

for warm companionship.

Because you went cold.

Though the civility of civilisation frightens me, I visit…

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Machine Learning

I   A machine enters the forest. The trees, the endorphined air as well as the birds’ circumspection   play dead.   Until they start intuiting the machine’s curiosity, its authentic verisimilitude, its making note, they will not dare resume as usual.    Resigned to it being, in their midst.   They reorient, relate-to the …

Considering a line by Kim Seung-hee

It is worth remarking that "mense" is a shortening of menstruation, which I have heard Korean women, my ex-wife especially, say; however, I cannot further elucidate the reason, but can only speculate, if this is because menstruation is a difficult word, or if the shortening has become shorthand Konglish, thus the source becoming lost the …