Ghost Forest
Surging seas and weeping waves advance along your coast, probing buried channels as they break through the shoreface to drag briny fingerprints across weathered limbs
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Surging seas and weeping waves advance along your coast, probing buried channels as they break through the shoreface to drag briny fingerprints across weathered limbs
Under cover of violence we pulled you from your frozen past, geological collateral lying dormant in our hurried transits. Patiently you lay there, whispering at
Golden rays of winter’s sun pierce through the roof-shingle of the channel-sky, forbidden warmth enfolding frozen robes that shudder at the touch of an assumed
Stony gardens of shifting light sway vibrantly beneath the waves; rainforests of the sea, whose motely splendour permeates still waters with a pale and delicate
Buried beneath the snow line, these smouldering corpses begin to glow. Forgotten fires, whose reanimated embers burn brightly across the tundra; frozen bodies recoiling at
Buried deep beneath the tundra, frozen bodies lie asleep, waiting for the trumpet call to raise them from their peaty beds. Saturated with the fossilised
Beneath cloudy, frigid skies outcrops of fertilised laughter glare knowingly from sneering seas; their steady retreat stained by the crooked smile of those who know
As chimney stacks spew forth our tainted offerings of industrial excrement, dilapidated ventilators strain to suck poison from the saturated veins of concrete obelisks; their
Basking in the tainted gloss of west coast rays, these once frigid waters overflow with sustenance, enticing anchovies to cavort along the coastlines; their corporeal
In swathes of fractured colours you wheel across unbroken skies, a kaleidoscope of memory drifting between seasons; patterns shifting sensitively to the subtleties of scale.