| Diagnosis
We stayed the night, and left as chilly dawn broke a pale yolk above an empty car-park. Groups of birds flapped in trees, like strips of black sky torn by barbed branches. A week into Spring, and now it’s starting to snow. Perhaps the year’s heard your news, gone mad - and shuffled its seasons to end in May. Chris Major |
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| What the reviewers
have said about The Lowest Level: "It is one of the best poetry chapbooks I’ve read in quite a long time... He uses poetry against itself, and uses poetic convention against his subjects." Jacob McArthur. "When you read his collection … you find that what is really interesting is the implied connection between the grotty world he describes and the linguistic play that provides an antidote - of sorts..." - George Simmers. Sphinx Magazine. To buy a copy of The Lowest Level please send a cheque for £3.00 (including P&P) to the address below. White Leaf Press PO Box 734 AYLESBURY HP20 9AL UK www.whiteleafpress.co.uk |
