Posts by briancronwall

On Gary Hume’s “The Whole World” (2011)

By on Oct 18, 2020 in Poetry | Comments Off

Usually I prefer the image to go off the edges of the panel, for it to be larger than the space I can capture it in. - Gary Hume The brain is a soaked cabbage, its iters ancient mazes beneath new gloss of orbits gentle in dark magenta space. Why are this world’s edges so close? Below, nothing else interrupts; we nearly fall off the old thought into color, a race of slaw slowly watching its own wrinkles age, age into forever’s...

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Dusk at Preston Montford

By on Mar 17, 2019 in Poetry | Comments Off

  Shropshire, England, 1983 First, the silence. Then, the green of poplars in a row like a solemn waiting chorus, motionless. The wood-and-wire fences, brick wall: borders marking edges. A silent Severn, wet line seen through boughs. At first. Then, the leaves at the top of poplars, waving in a slight breeze. Fresh cow dung, dried dung, green grass, dry weeds. Purple and white flowers. A wildness uncontained by fences. Down the path, shadows of dusk lead on to the River. The Severn moves in a gentle way: an angler’s plunk, the call of a pigeon, ripples of far-off cars, ferns...

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By on Jan 20, 2019 in Poetry | Comments Off

She tells me it’s like the halos of saints preceding the onset, then a nightlight too bright to endure.                                             Rolled up in old sheets the color of fever and a blanket as blue as cobalt, she shades her eyes from as much of the world as she is willing to acknowledge.                         Her words are pained, careful as feet near the deteriorating half-way crumble on the Kalalau...

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