Chris Deakins
Falling Into Line
Running Out of Line
Will I wake alone, like a ghost
Standing on the harbour wall
To continue with my detached fortitude -
So comfortable?
See you in five years? It never.. It was special, and...
But it did, it is..
Like a white line racing underneath you
You can't imagine any faster than this real.
How the hard thing is that it matters -
Hard, real, beating;
Drumming out the echo
Of memories
Of meetings -
Wind through a moonlit yew tree in a courtyard,
Children footsteps fading in an alley
Beyond a stone archway
In a hidden garden
Where if you come quietly you will find me
Like a robin perched on a spade
Waiting for you to put your skates on.
Page(s) 7
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- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
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- Lamport Court
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- Magma
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- Matter
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- North, The
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Poetry London (1951)
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
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- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
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- Yellow Crane, The