March 12, 2015 / Creative Writing
The lake breathes and you feel at home in its lungs.
June 4, 2007
It has almost stopped raining,
but cloud’s still lower than our house.
Abandoned shoes and burn marks
show points of departure on the street,
blackberries and sloes fill the hedges,
waders call at night. I used to have
a bookcase that opened out on hinges
to reveal a secret room beyond.
If there is such a thing as community
it is now invisible in the morning mist.
Rupert M. Loydell
Rupert Loydell is Senior Lecturer in English with Creative Writing at Univesity College Falmouth, and the Managing Editor of Stride magazine and books. His books of poems include A Conference of Voices [Shearsman] and The Smallest Deaths [bluechrome]. An Experiment in Navigation is forthcoming in 2008.