Glasfryn Project

site

the tent as a mondrian   marlow moss   a jewel   bordered

neo plasticism   structured   by the arms of a drummer-non-drummer

critiqued&dictated   a boy   is an abstract thing is a realist thing

a girl   is an excellent performance of gender   on a campsite

the girl   must be a fairy  the girl   must filter gender

from the sky   chiaroscuro   from lips   an apple pressed pink

silver   flat footed cleopatra   reptilian informant

semi ethical decisions   on future eating programmes

red mohawk   brocken spectre   broken flight    burning embers

buzzards   amicable vultures   reverse intent

swimming in a river air   swimming in awareness

realisation   all fears     manmade

 

 

 

 

llandudno

to begin: the double l is a tl sound, made significantly easier when in full possession of mersey vocal chords. after the grand gesture of local pronunciation, the dud slamming afterwards seems farcical. but then, there is an element of pretence to both this and every seaside town. the sky is bright and the weather is fine. we live in precarious states, the poundland stores on the promenade amplify this. but job prospects are fine and how do we feel? fine. my hair is also fine the welsh mountain weather hates it hates us hates holiday economy. so much victorian façade. so much potential lurks beneath pavement cracks. running parallel: your brother as snooker star, us hotel guests, boutique bracelets, our son with a makeshift sea breeze, pink grapefruit as exotic. the beach is packed but the coast looks angry, as though it overheard southport on acid. i heard you were queen of the welsh resorts i said. then protect me from the eyes fixated on the towel i said. it is hard for fat people to navigate the art of a bathing suit without exposure. exposure to what? she asked. the shock i replied. the outrage of occupation. this is the lens from which we view the shore.

 

 

 

 

betws-y-coed

horses                                       horses                                    horses                                    horses

patti                                                                                                                      in a thunderstorm

patti                                                        on a steam shaped                                             pinnacle

mynndd                                 railtrack                                soundtrack                              horses

gallop                                                                                                                    on a windowpane

gallop                                                         in the belly                                 of a woman all wired

gallop                                                   as a heartbeat sulks                                       all blue eyed

all truculent                                        all universe pending                                           on flutter

on cupid                                                         speculation                                                    can we

do we                                                      i think          the boy                            as a weathervane

the boy                                              conducts             the sky                    celestial flash-mouth

overflow                                           accelerate              racer                        accelerate snapshot

moment                                           climbdown          slipshod                                     in a tangle

footsies                                            on a river      on a makeshift                               pebble path

north-ish                                                    north wales-ish                                        bucolic….ish

chapel in the woods                              church in the water                       signalled   surveyed

watched in foolery                                                                                            captured in revelry

horses                                        horses                                   horses                                     horses

 

 

Sarah Crewe is from the Port of Liverpool. Her work focuses largely on working class feminist psychogeography. Her work has appeared in Poetry Wales, Tears In The Fence, Litmus, The Wolf, Molly Bloom and Datableed. Her latest chapbook, echolalia, is from Litmus Press. She is a MRes Poetry student at the University of Kent.

 

 

 

View all: Issue 9, Junction Box | Posted on 12 Dec 2016 |