photo: @John Stadnicki
People travel towards the water.
Believers and non-believers, abandoned,
wet books with pages turning themselves,
in the hot breeze.
In times of peace, the bread chooses wisely.
It chooses us.
To hear the summer from miles away – a sudden blast.
Toxic petals float in the air and
drop vertical shades of colour
on busy roads, on silenced barracks.
We all are the collective eyewitness,
the sleep-deprived well;
knowing litter pickers, mending
the gaps in this violent history.
A poem for ‘Europa‘ by Andrew Heath https://www.amazon.co.uk/Europa-Andrew-Heath/dp/B01LYHL716
For further information on Andrew Heath’s music, please click here: https://andrewheath.bandcamp.com/
The box arrived. The first books now being sent to the British Library. And, in the middle of it, a new poem published this morning in ‘International Times’ – the newspaper of resistance.
‘A Day at the Office’ – pre-election dossier.
It was, after all, a beautiful day.
Your hands, resting on the white tablecloth,
the lost sheep in a perfect desert with no compass.
You passed me the tea, I took the newspaper and
arranged my dress in a neat knot on my lap,
smiled and looked the sun in the eye.
The fresh air suffocated us.
The summer, gone.
‘Too much beauty’ I thought to say before I slowly placed the cup in front of me,
‘too much of you’
but I kept a symmetrical distance between my toes and yours.
I stood up and went to the other side of the room
to watch you watching the sea.
On the floor, the breakfast crumbs.
Memory of my passing.
Photograph: @Maria Stadnicka, Lines’, Stroud
I always arrive late for everything.
Stuck in a traffic jam by the docks,
missed Noah’s boat but
survived under water
accidentally trapped between stolen books,
trapped by a word heavier than a stone,
lighter than a feather.
Hidden in the overcrowded wooden train carriage,
radicalised by the anonymity of my blue name-tag,
with a heart growing outside my body.
Each beat painfully visible to the guards
around the Monopoly table.
On the waiting list for ballet lessons,
radicalised by the price of uranium bullets on Mother’s Day
handwriting an apologetic note.
My deep eye silenced.
The familiar solemnity of a world without a face.
Photograph: @John Stadnicki, Bristol MMXVI
Poetry reading: Maria Stadnicka reading the poem City from the collection Imperfect published by Yew Tree Press, 2017. Poem published in International Times, January 2017.
Music: Katie McCue
Video footage: World War One Archive
The newspaper of resistance brings you a new text:
Front cover design: @Andrew Morrison
We had to stop the car several times.
Weeks of anxious waiting finally ended.
A new, small, wrinkled, bloody, placental book
It had a natural birth and I called it ‘Imperfect’.
The book launch will be on Friday 19th May 2017, at Black Books Cafe, Stroud. 7.30pm for 8pm start. Free entry.
The book is available for pre-order at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The evening will be a vibrant performance with poetry and music, featuring Maria Stadnicka, Adam Horovitz, Jay Ramsay, Katie McCue and ‘Souled and Healed’.
Yew Tree Press – Philip Rush
Design and printer – Andrew Morrison
The evening host – Jay Ramsay
Books, drinks, sounds will be available! Come along!