I love the picture of the stoat, or whatever it is. You wrote something before about spacing-out looking at dead, maybe dismembered animals. Which I do when I see one: memento mori. But your's looks pretty perky.
The poem (which has disappeared from my browser windows) has more rhymes and word-play in iit, eg "angrily...pornography" or "beckoning...reckoning" than I've noticed before. Not in ANY sense a poetry buff me. But word-play I like. Plus, essential: stuff I just don't understand.
Many thanks Peter, yes, I used the picture before! One I did which finished with a dead stoat.
This one is meant to be quite sound-based, so glad you spotted. It's 'about' University College Hospital, where I was born and my parents both worked. But how London has been erased...imperial blowback - and how poetry/and reading, is becoming niche.
..He howls through hollow halls of history, sick with sand and sinning.
Each pixel a ghost of conquest, flicking, thinning,
The past curls smoke-like round his clenched desire,
Fuelling fists that crave ruin and fire.
I love the picture of the stoat, or whatever it is. You wrote something before about spacing-out looking at dead, maybe dismembered animals. Which I do when I see one: memento mori. But your's looks pretty perky.
The poem (which has disappeared from my browser windows) has more rhymes and word-play in iit, eg "angrily...pornography" or "beckoning...reckoning" than I've noticed before. Not in ANY sense a poetry buff me. But word-play I like. Plus, essential: stuff I just don't understand.
Many thanks Peter, yes, I used the picture before! One I did which finished with a dead stoat.
This one is meant to be quite sound-based, so glad you spotted. It's 'about' University College Hospital, where I was born and my parents both worked. But how London has been erased...imperial blowback - and how poetry/and reading, is becoming niche.