Poem in The Pangolin Review

Not only is The Pangolin Review named after my favourite creature I’ve never seen, it’s editor Amit Parmessur has been kind enough to publish one of my poems in the latest issue.

You can find “An old friend” by clicking here and scrolling down about two-thirds of the way, though you’re very likely to get distracted as you go. My thanks to Amit for including my poem.

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London Grip

London Grip

I’m extremely pleased to have one of my poems – “Number 44” – included in the Winter 2018 issue of London Grip, and to be in the company of some fine poets in this issue.

My thanks to editor Michael Bartholomew-Biggs for choosing my poem.

Another poem at Algebra Of Owls

chewithcigar

I’m really honoured that guest editor Oz Hardwick selected my poem “Ride”  as the Editor’s Choice Poem of the Month for March at Algebra Of Owls. It’s the first award of any description I’ve ever received for one of my poems (might have been one in primary school?), so I guess I can retire now…

Those wonderful Algebra Of Owls folks have also just published another of my poems on their website. You can check out “One last cigar” here.

The view from Dmitri’s apartment

the-view-from-dmitris-apartment

The view from Dmitri’s apartment

 

The four lanes of the road, with its

fickle asphalt, appeared to be

straight, in the same way that the

horizon makes the Earth look flat;

only from a certain perspective,

or with undamaged wings, can

you truly appreciate its curve, yet

somewhere beyond our sight, it

began that imperceptible turn to the

left. Eventually, it would wrap itself

right around the entire city, in an

orbit of imperfect symmetry, and

come back to this very point, where

it was, in fact, beginning to quietly

eat itself. So all those people we

could see walking, seven floors below,

sand grains at the mercy of something

unseen, or else riding in buses and

on bicycles, were never really going

anywhere. And the fields and trees,

the cemeteries visible on the other

side, were probably nothing more than

a painting, or a collage of assorted

illusions the width of a whole

continent, unfurling itself eastwards

as far as our eyes could travel.

 

first published in Sweet Tree Review, Volume 1, Issue 3, 2016

 

 

Dog love

Dog love

Dog love

 

Of course dogs love the same way we do,

even if our human minds narrow it into loyalty

or faithfulness with their busy machinery.

 

She kept me awake all night, pacing,

balancing the certain with the uncertain:

back and forth; back and forth.

 

Her claws fretted the kitchen floor,

eyes on the darkened windows,

nosing the strange air in search of

 

any familiar molecules of her master,

but finding none. All the while

those anonymous surgeons were

 

spinning his life like a china plate,

piecing together the broken heart,

somewhere on the edge of a nearby town.

 

first published in Scrittura, Issue 2, 2015