#moorland
You wrap around
me, like a fog.
Haze of bitter
sweet miasma.
Smothering.
Smothering.
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 2:55 AM UTC
The Calder cut a channel
through the ancient stones of Elmet,
sculpting minds of millstone grit
in moorland weavers' kin.
Poetry coursed his veins.
Clotted domestric pain
flooded his synapse.
His shrouded fame collapsed.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC