Cover Reveal: In Brigantia

This is the cover, in full, of my second poetry collection, In Brigantia, due to be published soon.

It shows both the back and front cover. The spine of the book will run through the middle of the horse’s head, with half of the face appearing on each side.

I wanted this image as Cartimandua, queen of the Brigantes, translates as ‘sleek pony’.

Horse, pony, it’s close enough 😃

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Berlin

from my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Berlin

Hanging on the telephone
in a hazy funk.
Ice in a glass.
The words
shape-shifting silver bream,
occasionally
catching the light.

The ice shifts,
tying me down,
caught on a line
encumbered, turbid.
Tasting Berlin: Berlin,
diluted,
hanging on the telephone 
in a hazy funk.



©AndrewJamesMurray

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Word Jam #10

From my poetry blog.

Coronets For Ghosts

The young and the well hung 
quartered and drawn
striding through chapters 
toothless raptors
wireless adaptors
aborted newborn

The herd and the blackbird
song feathered dawn 
erasing through channels
annulled annals
amphibious mammals
bucketed spawn

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Crows

Crows

A disheartening of crows
gathered in winter fields.

Naked trees 
from disused rail road tracks,

dark stains
on white linen.

In trust we are led
through this stark terrain,

senses soaked
in sparse liquor,

a hungry air tasting our flesh,

a murmuring 
of hardened, thirsting 
soil.

They rise, wheeling,
across the sky,

black flecks of mortality
in widening whites of eyes.





©AndrewJamesMurray

Raw Mojo

From my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Raw Mojo

The bleak, blushes of dusk. A Highland wind 
licks at a heart, wrapped in leaves.
Buried beneath a pine cone, needles.

Drink 'til I can drink no more;
just watch the dead
impose in plagues.

A girl, dark, unfamiliar,
dares to draw the focus
of these phantom scarred eyes,
blood rushing in her alluring anonymity.

A taste of ash, I eat my father.
I am an amalgamation 
of anecdote and mannerism.
Assimilated slow and left to boil.

Magisterial day. Insouciant night.
Sin suggests an arbitrator. 
I need a new translation,
from the prophet's native tongue.





©AndrewJamesMurray

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Dog Days

From my poetry blog.

Coronets For Ghosts

Dog Days



pockets of dereliction
the dog days of July

hanks of grass
and shaggy-maned
stalks

who can deny
the sapping sun

at its highest point
lording over
our genuflecting
straw gods

in the square
in the shade 
of a spreading elm
the fatigue of noon-day
workers





©AndrewJamesMurray

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Word Jam #7

Quote

From my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Drum snare rainfall

an electric wildfire 
swept over insane asylums

scattering survivors
of cold reason
to hinterlands of smoulder

If my numbers come up tonight
she will declare undying love

and I shall stake claims
in the sand
sentimental fool that I am






©AndrewJamesMurray

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