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a moment of quiet despair

…I carved
my name there as a kid,
spitting out pips, a boy's letters
grown above a man's height now,
the bark folding over itself,
pressing against the back brain,
rough hewn like track marks…

from B3212 by Tim Cumming, taken from his new collection, The Rapture, published by Salt

Uploaded on Jan 22, 2012

1 note / 7 comments

bridge to nowhere

Uploaded on Jan 22, 2012

1 comment

forest fire

…this underworld of alchemy and distance,
these shapes of yours pulling
the world out backwards,
signed and in its original frame,
provenance a window of generous admirers.
The eye's a rolling colour field,
ten green bottles under the skylight,
rags smeared with colour,
all that private stuff out of the picture,
stoking the temperature,
keeping the warmth in…

from Yield by Tim Cumming, taken from The Rapture, published by Salt

Uploaded on Jan 16, 2012

1 comment