And a friendly reminder, as of April 2017, my first collection – BONE INK – is available for order from Guillotine Press. This is one of the poems that didn’t make it into the collection.
The Boar in Summer, it might be Prog
watching
rubbing the nose of the boar
golden
talking obscure field positions
not quite catching not quite in
field
psychedelic blues so unlisted
people don’t even know the band name
I think it might be Prog I think they
might be Antrobus the Fly Hat Band
maybe Iron Claw a bootleg
they could be Sabbath on a diet
maybe nothing has changed
only the lips of Barangaroo
cliffs
a fortress tooled on the foreshore
our rodent squint grim shut
the hand drum stutter breath
dull trudge of a forced march
staccato relish of a jack hammer
it’s a long way home
and awake I
dream colours we’ll never hear
Again, a piece from 2015 filed under slightly too odd to shoot off to magazines.
Rico Craig 