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?

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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