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Rodney Wood lives in Farnborough is working on a sequence of poems about family etc whose titles come from a list of pamphlets issued by Gale and Polden (a printer my Dad worked for). Poems from there have been published by South, Stride, The Blue Nib, London Grip, Amtrillis, Brittle Star, The High Window and Morphrog. Last year he published a pamphlet, Dante Called You Beatrice, which was published by The Red Ceilings Press. He also jointly runs an open mic in Woking.

PROTECTION, ADVANCED FLANK, REAR GUARDS AND OUTPOSTS

a drawer of rusted hinges / screws / nails (bent) / screwdrivers / saws / pliers / lightbulbs

inside the door an old bedside table / a drawer of rusted hinges / screws / nails (bent)

inside the door an old bedside table / screwdrivers / saws / pliers / lightbulbs

forks / spades / a watering can / a bucket with a hole / flowerpots

a dining room chair / things that cannot be seen / forks / spades / a watering can

a dining room chair / things that cannot be seen / a bucket with a hole / flowerpots

the world / to grieve / smoke his cigarettes / and think what he’d leave me

he came to the shed to escape / the world / to grieve / smoke his cigarettes

he came to the shed to escape / and think what he’d leave me

THE BROKEN THREAD

the holy mountain for the first time / you must write a haiku / on the experience

the tour guide says that when you visit / the holy mountain for the first time

the tour guide says that when you visit / you must write a haiku / on the experience

it was an inferno / of traffic and people / eyes were greedy / with claws in teeth and belly

when arrived at the fifth and final station / it was an inferno / of traffic and people

when arrived at the fifth and final station / eyes were greedy / with claws in teeth and belly

in that old 5/7/5 syllabic form / “a statement of the bleedin' obvious”

I sat down at a table / where others were writing / in that old 5/7/5 syllabic form

I sat down at a table / where others were writing / “a statement of the bleedin' obvious”

Mount Fuji: a hill                           Mount Fuji has lost                 Hello Mount Fuji:

where cyclists tourists traders      its innocence to ring tones     an explosion of life

and pilgrims worship                    toilets and car parks               my hopes fears and dreams

back on board the coach / told how people came to Mount Fuji / to die

that will have to do as the Guide waved us / back on board the coach

that will have to do as the Guide waved us / told how people came to Mount Fuji / to die

bodies are badly decomposed / at night they scream for company

suicide by starvation / hanging / mob murders / bodies are badly decomposed

suicide by starvation / hanging / mob murders / at night they scream for company

that bodies magically disappear / the Demon Forest is home for abandoned souls

but the Japanese want the illusion / that bodies magically disappear

but the Japanese want the illusion / the Demon Forest is home for abandoned souls

NOTES ON KIT

by the created remains of my parents / but it doesn’t care less

this Elizabeth Rose has been fertilised / by the created remains of my parents

this Elizabeth Rose has been fertilised / but it doesn’t care less

all the rose wants are food / water and sun / like those of us walking through life

I could have put them anywhere / all the rose wants are food / water and sun

I could have put them anywhere / like those of us walking through life

like a pharaoh or warrior chief / how can I explain their absence

he’s taken everything with him / like a pharaoh or warrior chief

he’s taken everything with him / how can I explain their absence

GUIDE TO COURT MARTIAL PROCEDURE

as I describe my simple and persistent sadness / from that abandoned garden

my eyes tell me of distances / as I describe my simple and persistent sadness

my eyes tell me of distances / from that abandoned garden

to hear your words Mother / to feel your fingertips on my face Mother

I want to become a child again / to hear your words Mother

I want to become a child again / to feel your fingertips on my face Mother

not the way you kept things secret / not your cooking or sudden tempers

Mother I miss you so much but / not the way you kept things secret

Mother I miss you so much but / not your cooking or sudden tempers

you never told me of the cancer / you never told me of the pain

Mother you never said you'll be leaving / you never told me of the cancer

Mother you never said you'll be leaving / you never told me of the pain

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Rodney Wood lives in Farnborough is working on a sequence of poems about family etc whose titles come from a list of pamphlets issued by Gale and Polden (a printer my Dad worked for). Poems from there have been published by South, Stride, The Blue Nib, London Grip, Amtrillis, Brittle Star, The High Window and …

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