Poetry & prose by Alex Hickman
1913 November artillery arcs unseen into Salisbury Plain as if someone is furiously slamming a door, again, and again the shell smoke squatting, gobbed above the crushed grassland then feathering into air. … In the village, December narrows to the corridor of days a dark ending in moods of glitter and promise. Wet boots paired […]
Read More…If you’re a cricket fan you’ll know that England have just lost the Second Test in Australia, and that their batsmen have – once again – failed to overcome a disciplined Australian pace attack. Like any sporting series, this one is accompanied by a cacophony of media comment. The Australian press, which feels that it […]
Read More…We are in the year’s dark narrows. In the churchyard the yew – green-black and skittish with robins – is ruling the short days, the long nights. Wonderful seasons! I am still young and foolish enough to long for snow. I hope I always will be. In the meantime, the last leaves on the field […]
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