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PNSpring15

Going Through

at Houston George Bush International, snow globes             pose a threat to flight security. Blizzards must be surrendered or seized, slipped             through the flip-lid of a concourse metal can. Whole ceramic cities in miniature banned,             winters binned, destined for nowhere.      Mount Rushmore floored, a Golden […]

Poem 2

Pull the pin on a pomegranate to watch the garnets explode

little one

the baby arrived with stitched lips no matter how hard the midwife tried she couldn’t undo the stitches and, shrugging, handed her over for the needle-eyed mother to see to

Minuscule

for a calligrapher All these feathery notations of pollen-fall & seed-scatter, all these burred & hair’s-breadth souls, all these friable clocks & keys, purses, ears, all these microbial explosions & quantum float-aways, are green secrets the wind keeps or doesn’t, flimsies the stream spins away or home – as if someone had grumbled ‘all flesh […]

‘You’re a snowdrop in snow’

said a man I knew, quite a friend, trying out the phrase. I watched snowdrops that winter. How straight they stood in the snow – up to their necks, their chins. It was the thaw that killed them. When my friend died, I searched his poems for the line. Was there love in it?

Spider Art

Come! you clever octoclogs with your geometrical patterning your silken cats-cradling            it’s like do me a Hepworth here, here in this piece of concrete soilpipe fortuitously lettered            ‘Hepworth’

Supported by Arts Council England

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