Coping with Terminal Illness
The day John Wayne died we kept the radio low. You asked about the batteries. We lied.
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x,y
Godfather of the equation, superscript, optics, vortices and ‘I think, therefore I am’, René Descartes took the credit for lots. Irrevocably splicing algebra and geometry, his lettered crosshairs, x and y, complicated the Euclidian plot of dots and planes, rendering straight lines to curves and triangles into waves. Even Isaac Newton was baffled, allegedly. Where […]
Winter Triplets
Stripped or gone to seed. By Hallowe’en the garden’s falling back on its laurels; its hollies, ivies and all its evergreens. ~ Neat, how every now and then metaphors declare themselves: you’re a robin; I’m a wren. ~ Propped up in bed half listening for the post half in a dozy […]
Gradation
The setting sun accentuates a day’s activity in sand shadows that soften, resolving footprints into anonymous hollows. Mini-avalanches subtract the who, why and when. The strand relaxes, easing itself into oblivion.
Jean Bleakney Q&A on her ‘-ion’ poems
Jean Bleakney talks about her series of ‘-ion’ poems.
Jean Bleakney Q&A on gardening and poetry
Jean Bleakney talks about gardening and how she came to poetry.
Jean Bleakney Q&A on dictionaries
Jean Bleakney talks about her love of dictionaries and one-word poem titles.
November will come
This is no season of the quartered orange, squirting and splitting in your exquisite fingers. Like the leaves. You’ve gone, like the carbon-dusted yellow leaves. Last night I dreamt of the dark dogs nuzzling and tearing at the refuse sacks that languished in doorways, that bled like cunts when they slit them. I am hunched […]