A Warm Breath


I falter
a lot

Today


I have been
asking questions

Lots of why questions
Some when questions
Lots and lots
of what now questions

And then I felt myself falter
Yet again

I think sometimes
something
as innocent
as a warm breath
can cause a loss
of balance

Yes


But also
a missed
Heartbeat

And so I falter
and catch myself
without waiting
for that warm breath
or a reason
for my heart to beat

Today
I am a lover

of me.

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Today

I’m procrastinating. In my head lies unwritten poetry, unanswered letters and emails, and a “living with cancer” update.

However, mostly (in between taking pics of my dogs) I am reading. This book, in fact, and it’s one of the best stories I’ve read in awhile.

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Featured Publication – Metastatic by Jane Lovell

I was moved, impressed, and quite stricken with awe by these poems of Jane Lovell.

Our featured publication for February is Metastatic by Jane Lovell, published by Against the Grain Press.

Jane Lovell’s writing charts mysterious, unsettling trajectories: the invisible paths of bees, the journey of dead light, the routes found in folded and untied landscapes. These poems unmoor us, find beauty and strangeness in the everyday.’ Helen Mort

Jane Lovell’s poetry is rooted in the human body, which in turn is rooted in the earth, sheltered by the sky, and washed clean by the rain. This raw and unflinching collection reminds us that our lives are determined by natural processes, of which change and decay are as vital and relevant as new birth and growth.’ Katharine Norbury

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Thrush, Covent Garden, 1792

She has waited over two centuries
for sunlight, beak raised towards
the edge of the page

her nestful of eggs washed grey
and the song of lost days pressed

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Winter Again

The wind
is harsh
and cold
bending
barren branches
until
like grasping fingers
they touch
the frozen ground

I hold my breath
not wanting
to breathe
not wanting
to feel
cold
fill up
my lungs
my heart

I have
forgotten
how to bend
how to touch
the ground
with my
grasping
fingers

It is winter
again

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Words

Sometimes
the words
come rushing
racing
over troubled terrain
I am speechless
and drowning
in too many
words

Memories
are nothing
like now
I have no words
as I sit
on this fallen log
drawing
symbols
and signs
in the dark
earth
silent incantations
over lips
frozen
with forgotten desire

Alone
and yet
one more voice
in a Greek chorus
of voices

Accidental magic
and mayhem
wandering
among
broken words
looking
desperately seeking
mine

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