Damming Loss
Returning to forsaken lands you cautiously rebuild your island homes; every log, branch, and mud pile pressed on with the precise hesitancy of re-colonised dreams.
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Returning to forsaken lands you cautiously rebuild your island homes; every log, branch, and mud pile pressed on with the precise hesitancy of re-colonised dreams.
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
A Rhode Island pond – The beaver tastes the cold air As he builds his dam Now somewhere upstream On a vast and dying