Hinge Moments

from my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Hinge Moments

there are hinge moments

that connect

the before and after

beneath the blustering larches

we make them visible

on crowded carriages

the fingers that brushed briefly

in causal static

an eidetic clarity

of toss-a-coin

choice

take off your shoes

this is sacred ground

this is the place where we first met

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Claws For The Weekend: Going Out On A Limb

My wife always says that she needs an extra pair of hands.

Well I found her some in Leeds.

Jackdaw regulars may recall that the last time I was there it was legs that caught my eye.

Pretty soon I’ll have my self a new woman. My own Frankenstein’s monster.

Have a great weekend everyone. See you on the flip side.

Within A Dampened Twilight

I love this photograph of Deansgate, Manchester, taken during a heavy rainstorm this August, 2019.

Taken from Deansgate Station, it has been likened to a Lowry painting.

It was taken by Simon Buckley, an artist whose photographs I discovered in his blog Not Quite Light, featuring photographs of the older, northern parts of the city that I love when, well, it was not quite light.

His blog led me to his website, where you can view and purchase copies of his prints:

https://notquitelight.com

22 Miles; 300 Million Gallons

Yesterday, the 1st of August.

Lughnasadh, the beginning of the harvest season.

What will we harvest? Will we reap what we sow? I don’t mean to get all biblical on you.

In Manchester yesterday, some of the older buildings of Dantzic Street here are dwarfed by the omnipresent CIS tower. The blue skies obscured by menacing clouds. The transition point of old and new; the transition point of summer and autumn.

I had 19th Century ancestors that lived on Dantzic Street, though I’m not as knowledgeable about that particular branch to tell you about them. Yet.

I got home to learn about the drama unfolding twenty two miles away in Whaley Bridge, Derbyshire. Toddbrook Reservoir looms high above the town, much higher than that Manchester CIS tower. As torrential rain continued to fall, it was discovered that part of the dam wall was damaged. With a 50-50 chance of the water, all 300 million gallons of it, rushing down onto, into, over, the town below, the thousand residents were evacuated.

Whaley Bridge now sits as a ghost town, a ghost town waiting to be either swamped or saved. An unwanted cleansing of biblical proportions.

There I go again.

Today, this second day of August, the battle goes on. RAF helicopters, engineers, volunteers, all working together to try and hold back the tide, aided thankfully by a dry night.

We wait to discover the nature of this harvest.