‘I’m hungry less/and eating more’

*Waves from the internet void*

This isn’t a Napowrimo poem. I know, I know, an actual fucking lockdown seems like it’d be the perfect time to tackle Napowrimo. We’ll see. I’m trying not to over-ascribe myself jobs, because my sense of worth being tied to my productivity is a relationship I’m trying to break.

In the meantime, have a quarantine poem that I am mildly pleased with. Needs tinkering, but sharing is good as well. Need to remember to share my writing, instead of just sitting on it, especially now that I won’t be performing in person for a while.

Hope everyone is healthy, safe and relatively sane.

‘The Push’ by Rebecca

Look mum, I’m on a youtube!

I go to an excellent poetry night at the Eagle Inn in Salford (‘Evidently’, check out the link below, they’re class) and whilst there last month some folks from Speculative Books press in Glasgow (link also below) asked if they could film me doing my poem from the open mic.

I should point out – I was a little bit drunk, and so you’ll have to excuse the slight wibble of emotion that escapes at the end there.

In my defence it was Easter half term and I didn’t know I was going to be filmed when I piled into the pub that afternoon. Please show Speculative Books some love and give them a follow, they’re doing good work.

 

 

Evidently

Speculative Books

Returning from the void

I’m sharing this again. For anyone who’s ever wondered where the line of poetry tattooed on my right arm is from, this is it.

Most people ask to read my tattoo and then give the overly serious nod and slight side-eye and move swiftly on to another topic. I’ll admit, it doesn’t make much sense out of context, taking only the following lines from the above;

‘I send my rockets forth/between my ears’

As an avid fan of both poetry and space travel, an image which merged the two ideas was irresistible to me and I couldn’t not steal it.

But the poem as a whole is something I think best experienced in context.

Sound the trumpets

For my MA is done and dusted – with no small amount of stress and slight-sleep-deprived-mania (Rosey Brown and I spent a good 5 minutes giggling over the concept of bras the morning of hand-in)* towards the end, but it was good to send off those poems I’d been obsessively editing since June-time into the wild to make it on their ownsome.

And to celebrate (although I also plan to actually celebrate, with some kind of alcoholic beverage and possibly some dancing, sorry world) I thought I’d post one of the poems I have been labouring over all this time.

See employed friends, I am not a layabout to quite the degree you think I am!