beckiw

#14 Night vision is black with ground soft underfoot and the milky way unpolluted. This here is the fairy bridge, amongst moors and heather burnt black. To give secrets requires ...

#13 The scree cuts her palm And angles her boots to the breaking point. Above the clouds Is enough to stop. And onwards are boulders, And the sky, And the ...

#12 The men, is the simple answer. Simple enough for a five year old, who sees what cannot be seen. The castle chapel is just her and her father. Is ...

#11 Summer drawbridges and paint chipped battlements. The sycamore in pieces of ivy stepping stones. A girl bounds from a window pretending to be a door. And rescues earthworms from ...

#10 I get scared there'll be a day when I'm not enough to keep you here. When my love can't cancel out mass hate and other people decide our future.

#9 The street exists in scrawled letters, on a crumpled envelope and then again on the lips of locals. To enter, listen to the beck. Follow from where it trickles ...

#8 Time travel is possible in the closes filled with steps and the sandstone fleshmarkets. Mary likes to tell ghost stories underground where arsenic lines the wallpaper and The cobbler ...

#7 Swallows sit in a neat row on communication lines. And shrews find themselves trapped in a father’s shoe. In the toilet creatures live, across the yard, found by a ...

#6 This is a variation of a story me and my brother used to tell as kids There are monsters in my room and not where you think and not ...

#5 This place has no magic but is steeped in wonder. The one eyed cat tucked in straw chases a scampering spell between hooves. In pieces the bench has given ...

#4 You stand there cut off at the knee. The tastes of wine built on your tongue in decorative empty words. The books delivered to your hand, thick with the ...

#3 She says her name is courage. And she treads soundly, in the fact but mostly after. In the third iteration she speaks, of action, and logic. She smiles with ...

#2 Necessity in the shudder between breaths, the hooded eyes of betrayal and aches pressed into springs. Inevitability occupied with words, clashing with percussion and, the artificial glow of night, ...

#1 A thousand utterances, trapped in a parade of the past. Where the water carries away the laugh that touches your smile, but doesn't find me anymore. Left behind. Left ...

Hi! I'm late. I've never really written poetry. I'm not good at it. I don't know what I'm doing. So this should be interesting right? (mostly terrible though). I've spent ...