What we are up to


Neutral Spine

04/11/09 Friends
by Emma Hammond

Just so I can stop thinking about it. It is actually boring now I say. I think I even mean it. Errata say that she definitely didn’t lose her virginity when she was 9 in the treehouse, he just put it in. That doesn’t count does it? We disagree and agree all at once. Since then, since before I think. In a clammy old garage I looked up in the sky and whispered to him: Hello boy I say, I wonder where.. More


half a

22/08/09
by Emma Hammond

your shock is a big dark dream-words take you outward, i have sin it.sin it. the position you occupy is one ofsomeplace.you say poetry & i do.where i am notwhittling you take thepocket knife and pocketit. deep in your warlock aprontwistingon yr pitchfork.i wouldn’t put itin the past youheld this walnut withcc’d fingersand cracked it ’til out camefireworksof tired trumpets.we go upward on and in mydreams.. More


rpm

24/07/09
by Emma Hammond

i have seen you open here and there in rpm silently gold in your smiling and olden as raining so gone to the shopsin my tweed sarcophagus if there in the capsule unclosing you’d be would i know you? and are you over-priced and over-ripe of dreaming is your face clean can i inspect yr legs are you suspicious of roads- as endless? an elk bright pylon by the fire straddling the scrapes and.. More


I heart

01/07/09
by Emma Hammond

amazon i amand amazingly ikeep pulling the chordon the yes wayslice my breast off pullthe bow back andwill c u l8terall uspeoples like i wewith eyes of a foghornwe’re snipped in bitsand lost in a sea of toughold as the trees, the treesfrom olden way backwhen all of a sudden we goexplode! and there’s a maybeperched on our mouths in techni-colour the beautiful brown-eyed extinct kind with poetry in hisgutteringand.. More


A constant flow of

10/06/09
by Emma Hammond

Traffic over and throughMine indentWhat has been calledPersonality today isA slice of dreadfully toughCough-gunkIn a soup of cuticles it’sOK though you knowTypical and as usualAnother ding dong daySprite I rise thenSaw that which must be doneThrough waspsAnd put a few of them back inThe old barnet to beginOpen my hand and findA fruitNestling and twisting in thereHowPoetic I thoughtThat I should have.. More