Copyright 2016 by Carrie Etter

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Eleanor Rees' Riverine (Gatehouse, 2015)

October 1, 2017




At the Free Verse Book Fair in London yesterday, I bought more than I should have, as usual, and began reading this splendid pamphlet on the train home. It's nearly out of print, I believe.








I am digging me. I am swollen spore

                   swum in the slow tide south

      towards the shore, dredged from

                   the wildflower of the Thameside.




I am digging me. I am swollen spore

      flooded across the un-drained fields,

                    stagnant water in molten pools, a roof far gone.


from 'Protean Shifts'



On a shelf above the bar, wine glasses rattle a shimmy....


from 'In My Ears and In My Eyes'



All seeps toward the next hour:

turn of the moon, sun behind the cloud.


from 'Errant'



The house seems to blink--an agony

of hours passes. It uncurls.




The branches bend to see the house

bound panther-like into the forest....




The house swishes its tail and is gone.


from 'The House of the Dark Woods'



Our way is a smooth pool of open sky

fallen between earth and heavens,

edgeless and drawn by eyes

dusted with night.

We cannot see the distances.

I hear histories spiralling into this new occasion.


from 'For You in the Half-Light'



Batter us long waves.

Batter us wide-throated sea.

Let us find fix in the bite

of the winter wind, dark rain....


from 'At Sea'






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