Submission Guidelines

Tuesday, 3 June 2014

Reuben Woolley

re(:/-) birth

if only there were
some last reckoning , a slashed
throat , a full
blood offering
trying . oh gods
we're trying for extinction
we set the seas on fire
crack the crust
                        a final
caesarean , stillborn
& flaming . it comes
in bones , asking for delivery



see me young
see me old
see me

I dream myself into being
the logic of chance

*  *  *

we invent words
to fill the spaces . to silence
the rattle . but at night
there are still shadows , moving
into corners , hiding behind chairs

*  * *

'm only following
only trying , only
drowning between
the seconds

twice under
and hoping for the final pull

* * *

no regrets , no complaints
we have come through
we are perfect

* * *

surrounded by stories
walking clothed , stiff
or stumbling
ragged or posh . misread
or simply misunderstood

the lice in the skull

I shall spread my seed
in fertile lands

listen to the earth laugh



is an empty
vastness . it deeply
unsatisfies , bloodless
& fleshless . coming
from it we do not move
understanding , i-
dentification where
dying lasts a life
but this I
is not sufficient
to see no fences . it
is a description
a perfect loneliness

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