offshore austerity by Reuben Woolley

what sound do windows make
when they do not open

…………………….a signed story
…………………….laughing at surfaces
………………………………….only

standing
in some direction

they don’t provide for safety
& nothing’s allowed
to surprise……………not even
a sun
………rising
over ring roads

……….whose heads
are hanging now
……….these tired
precincts & cathedral
bones

we bleed
impatient
& stories
………tell stories
to fill the holes.the old birds
gaunt…………& greyling
in winds
unfeathered

uncrying
in corners
…………they hold for saviours

it’s a poor logic
of numbers.no words
to bury
………..we are
transparent
in burning rain
the leftovers
……………….thumbed
down by vacant caesars.raw
liver
for slavering jaws

..

Bio:
Reuben Woolley has been published in various magazines including Tears in the Fence, The Lighthouse Literary Journal, The Interpreter’s House, Domestic Cherry, The Stare’s Nest and Ink Sweat and Tears. His collection, the king is dead  was published in 2014 with Oneiros Books and a chapbook, dying notes, in 2015 with Erbacce Press. Runner-up: Overton Poetry Pamphlet competition and the Erbacce Prize in 2015. Editor of the online magazines: I am not a silent poet and The Curly Mind. A new collection on the refugee crisis, skins, has been published by Hesterglock Press, 2016.

when walls do not shelter by reuben woolley

this is night
………….fire
………………..see the tracers
………………..coming through
..
they slice our backs
on wire.we face
…………we open holes
…………& red
..
swimming in it all
…………we fury
…………we tired
..
………………between swords & sights
………………we stand
……………………………invisible
..
let’s go now
……..fading
……..like memory
..
we were never here
& you can’t see us

human it is by Reuben Woolley

 

are most human
………in quiet
hours
where hurt
………………comes
……………………….tumbling through

& time doesn’t move

alone
we are human
……..where
………………..i
goes labyrinth
……………………….threadless
blind
wherever

here
……..we are human
on these sands
……..irrevocably
lonely

..

……………………..in tears
we are human.it’s
the water we share

..

You can get the book through this link. Remember that all the profits go to the refugees through the organisation, CalAid. https://hesterglockpress.wordpress.com/reuben-woolley-skins/

preterite proof by reuben woolley

again they come
to see
…………the bleedings
..
…………………….cup
…………hands to catch
…………the final
..
…………………….drops
..
i’ll take me now
…………& die
outside
..
………...give you
this crutch
for kindling
..
…………will not want for cold
it is terminal
& i
am working on it
..
..

not here / thoroughly by Reuben Woolley

they want to take us

take us

squirming

 

……………….call

time                 here

 

………halfway

where the water

………………..never ends

 

nor erring now                        eyes

on careful

………………..steps

 

i’m absent

in my loneliness

 

will be a short             year

riding              fast

through all the slick abuse

 

after all

we came to this

 

in daylight

 

……………………………………stepping

in our own air

 

………………….breathing

 

From my book, skins, published by Hesterglock Press. All the profits from this book go to CalAid, an organisation working with the refugees in Calais.  https://hesterglockpress.wordpress.com/reuben-woolley-skins/

skins by reuben woolley

 

i hit the land
with all the light i have
& the wind
comes for leftovers

nothing’s
untouched

my shadow slipped off
downriver

& here i am

quite
naked

i have no shape
to wrap me in

peeled
at the edges

..

This is a recording of the title poem to my new book, skins. A book of poems for the refugees, all profits from which are going to CalAid, a reputable organisation workinmg with the refugees in Calais and beyond.
The book is to be found here: https://hesterglockpress.wordpress.com/reuben-woolley-skins/

& cut heads will speak

 

we survive
in long
…………..occlusion
is no air here
no fresh
way of saying

………….they made a god
in someone’s image.they
move the strings

………….a rope
too tight.a noose

to silence

……………….these pages
close.a cut
head does not speak

they think.listen
……………….hear the verses
sing triumphant

..

Guilty as Charged by Nick Lovell

I PLEAD GUILTY

AS FUCKING CHARGED!

I do not deny

That on that day I barged my way

Through the watching crowd,

Leapt into a boat, put to sea

Rowed hard to save that child,

Drowning in plain view.

What else could I do?

Stand and watch, as life was lost?

Take photographs? Tweet?

Video the scene for You’ve been Framed?

As he was tossed on rocks

Dashed by the waves.

You all should be shamed.

I stand reviled for saving life?

My name accused, abused?

I stand named and shamed

For being human?

Application for bail refused.

Confused minds preventing

Me from leaving the country?

Yet you don’t want migrants

To have a chance to arrive?

You would deny them

Their basic right to survive

In order to maintain

The fragile sanctity

Of an imaginary border?

I saved life!

I didn’t sell drugs, run guns,

Didn’t smuggle sex slaves

Didn’t commit acts so depraved

Tabloids would label me a beast.

I didn’t do much

Merely released these people

From the seas lethal clutches

So now the court’s frame of reference

Has been enlarged

I plead Guilty.

Guilty as fucking charged!

& cut heads will speak

we survive
in long
………….occlusion

is no air here
no fresh
way of saying

………….they made a god
in someone’s image.they
move the strings

………….a rope
too tight.a noose
to silence

………….these pages
close.a cut
head does not speak

they think.listen
………….hear the verses
sing triumphant

promised an advent by reuben woolley

we reached out for new days

………said mary.it wasn’t

a question of comfort

………& john came through

in tumult……………a repeat

………………………..of doors

..

………………………..opening

..

he locked his steps behind him

………said

grass will cover

the old & pissed on.glitter

distracts & distracts

…………………………we don’t see

the rusty times

..

…………………………i have

no doubt

……….he said……….turning off

lights & carrying

candles

……….this will be

a final……….strategy…………to hold

& fuck

our bastard heads.lie

………………………….low

& let them play in sand

..

Poem 14 in what is provisionally called the ‘john & mary’ sequence.

statues by reuben woolley

america
was something i dreamt about
one afternoon
like avalon calling
or watford gap

was a story
repeating
caught
& condemned
its head smashed
against a cold kerb

& where
are the technicolour knights
riding in to glory
& bringing
a last gasp
of promise

lost in curves / time
is unreliable
. cat’s smile
hangs
in blue
air

& what did she find / bring back
to this resemblance
of light . faked
shadows fucking every sign
of life
enough & isn’t

spider
hauls in her thread
& retreats
is a gargoyle
waiting
& waiting

Also published by Erbacce Press in my chapbook, dying notes.

those sacred days bleeding by reuben woolley

& some guy’s faking it

on a cross ……… purging

his imagined sins …….. bleeding

over the street

& those chains

aren’t paper & they’re flogging

themselves with knots ……. they

need the scars to last

till next year …….. say they’ve been here

say they’ve done the fourteen

stations ……… got

a return ticket

for kilroy

filling the chalice

not drinking