David Hawkins


Tomorrow Island Enterprise and Development Zone

At the top of the crane
clamber along this gantry
of recycled words and you are
welcome to a counterweight house.

Here in the forget we tell untold folktales
by the light of the last shreds
of our earthly anger; we use
hard return for an aerial.

When dawn comes
the children are too far away
to be heard or remembered.
They carried what they could: ideas only,

wrapped up in their bindles.
Across the horizon they double take
as the North Star swerves
and is smothered by hammering.

Some ate the mushroom,
some ate a placebo as a control,
yet all see in plan view
where the city ceases

and a weird sort of humming
reverts and does recursions.
Help me make a crwth
from these odds and ends.



Moss Diary

Whose brief
                fond look
into pools
                               is this? Seasonless
word, please
                                              revoke something
before you
                                                             disperse. Is
there always
                                                                            blue behind green?
G/las.s(y)unlight




David Hawkins is a writer, book editor and naturalist from Bristol, England. Recent work has appeared in Blackbox Manifold, BlazeVOX, B O D Y and Arc Poetry, and is forthcoming in Datableed, White Review and Molly Bloom. He was awarded second prize in the 2015 UK National Poetry Competition.
 
 
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