Short texts

Andrew uses his twitter feed to publish a short text every six days or so. Here’s a small selection:

107

Immured in silent flesh, the great bull
eyes the sparrow
he cannot be.

158

The argument we have started
the wind will soon settle
in grand joust

221

I thought that time led upwards
but no – it unspools
in the dark copses

241

Just a scratch, yet there you are,
years later, still dabbing
the exudate –

256

Dusk songfall: serving birds
peel silver apples
in the wood’s dark cellar

338

To stand up, then for
— not out, over or down —
is all the world asks

366

We will be lonely
when we’ve sucked the marrow
from the last giraffe bone

379

The city’s trashy, pimpled rump
upended: an eyeful
for the stars

399

The tench thought the heron
an arrival of cloud
a twig in the air

403

Light welled under the door, tore
at curtains, splintered sleep:
summer’s besieging rage

433

Now we are the spinning drunk
in the iron cloak, falling
through the ice

481

The wind is going, the river
too: this way
to the end of time

500

Twice daily stood
the rock against the tide
and every time diminished

516

It was the crow
looked from the bare branch at the sea —
it was my sorrow

522

A tit collects
old cobwebs, for a nest: just one
faultless gesture

598

Erotic trance: the slide
from generative madness
to contented squalor

687

Perfume narrates
but the skin beneath
owns the story

695

The little life lived brightly –
not the worse – nor yet
the lesser

760

Must we be – or would
all that is be better
if we were not? Well, God?