Freshwater Salts
Icy breath cascades across our asphalt arteries, meandering blockages that we incinerate with shovelfuls of salted grit; their cloying excess overspilling into unkempt reservoirs that
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Icy breath cascades across our asphalt arteries, meandering blockages that we incinerate with shovelfuls of salted grit; their cloying excess overspilling into unkempt reservoirs that
Jutting from the salted froth your solitary canine flashes in the midnight sun, revealing wrinkled rivulets that labour under our insignia; ivory forget-me-nots of all
Spat out from the murky exhalations of our impetuous industry you drift into the firmament, tainting its continence with your coarse and filthy touch, trickling
Fleeing down grassy corridors from whirring teeth that hack at your habitat with ill-managed discipline; this rich mossy canvas spat out as loamy clots, to
Emerging from a coral cocoon you drift towards the surface, feathery legs dancing beneath the waning light of a harvest moon. Perched beneath the waves
Breaking free from sandy beds you race towards the water’s edge; lunar compass perfectly attuned to the faintest glimmer of starry nights, and the worlds
Carved from the swamps, we dredged your home to make way for our own; squaring the deal with metals that were no longer precious. Their
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
The crest above the grassy plains dominates the outlook; its raw-boned peaks threatening to pierce the very fabric of the sky, as beneath its jutting
Born into violence: the offspring of mixed aggressions, traces of sickly silver quickly infiltrate our atmosphere. Toxic clouds that sail the zephyrs, spurting their entrails