Author: Xanthe Hall

the sun has shone it all out on the angry ground and the grass is crying for pity in the evening we will all grow red the babies will lie in the darkness and the people will watch him sink below the horizon leaving art forms behind him. [York, 1975]

I’m sorry to have to say but he’s not really listening anyway [Berlin, July 1985]    

thin line blade sharp between will and wish up high board look down clear blue you know that feeling the world over we have all stood in that second split ready to springboard high dive jump air lungs full ecstatic motion and when we were young how many times did we run and stop look…

I lie there in the snow freezing my palm to your palm and squeezing every drop of gin from my blood that spelt impurity but I can never get back what I have lost because I was out to lose it much too fast if you were to join me here in the dark overgrown…

I fell arms open wide not flailing but wondrously welcome like standing in the open ground rain sheeting soaking mouth licking slight prickle shiver but warm to the touch hot to hold yes yes I’ll take it all for better often for worse for whatever no appointments never knowing the next plunging through danger and…

listen. can you hear Mrs Flotsam call her children in from the river or the puff huff as Mr Bland blows up another dinghy or a ball or is it Susan’s other water wing? the buckets and balls and beach apparel equipment in glossy colours all plastic next to the sandy coloured sand. Mrs Flotsam…