Blog posts - page 4
May and June 2023 Input
17 Jul 2023 input
This is slightly late as I’ve thrown myself back into the world after a halting start to the year. I joined a gym, started going to more things and exploring the new area we live in. I also went to Birmingham and other places around the country a bit more.
Another espresso shot sky commute
09 Jul 2023 poetry
I define myself by edges–my skin,
car bonnets- but I am oh so permeable.
Chest matching thumpthumpthump of potholes.
Clemency lies between radio stations,
in the pause before windshield wipers
swish back to starting positions.
Hands tapping morse on the steering wheel,
messages to distant and unseen agents.
My party trick is dissolving into vapour.
Rumble strips and cat’s eyes broadcast:
“Forget all you know. Unlearn your old self.
A new world is forming in articulated lorry spray.
...
On Threads
07 Jul 2023 internet
By now you would have seen there’s a new social network in town. Threads is a Twitter alternative made by Meta1 and closely linked with Instagram. I signed up out of curiosity and almost immediately regretted it.
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So closely linked, I can’t deactivate Threads without removing my Instagram account. How very annoying. ↩
Between them is a canyon
26 Jun 2023 poetry
They sometimes shine torches over the strata
of compressed time, with sweeping, shaking
hands. Eternity is present in their half smiles.
Personal Thoughts on Submissions
22 Jun 2023 writing
I’ve spent a lot of this year purposely retreating from my typical ways of writing, to try and reinvent my practise. As such I made a conscious decision not to submit to literary journals or competitions this year. While previously I have had some moderate success, I found I was basing too much of my perception of my writing on how it was received.
I love walking in the woods so much I'm going to change my name to Forest
19 Jun 2023 poetry
Here, under the glitter of a multi-coloured canopy I am finding a new serenity, the peace of lives measured in centuries. I am removed from glaring lights and constant haze, breathing in a million micro-organisms. My pulse no longer has the twitch and shuffle of muffled drum and bass bleeding through the wall from next door, my heartbeat settles to the pace of my slow stride. I have left behind the disarray of the city, exchanged it for the slow drowning of moss. I am stopping walking, gazing up at the branches and the distant sun, falling faster. Recently I...