a poem by Luke Allan






Peasant
for Tom Betteridge




boats
black hugs
at the zero hour

spoons the hole
ripe with neighing

brine on brine
quadrangle
swimming

a white cross punches
some colours from your eyes





Read pdf




Comments: Post a Comment



<< Home

  • Twitter
  • Intercapillary Places (Events Series)
  • Publication Series
  • Newsreader Feed