Mark Sealey

Creativity -

        there’s enough destruction.

Poetry published in:

  1. Cyclamen and Swords

  2. Atlanta Review

  3. Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review

  4. Poetry Nottingham International

  5. The Journal

  6. The Pedestal Magazine

  7. Obsessed with Pipework (Flarestack)

  8. The Ugly Tree

  9. Manifold

  10. LinkWay Magazine

Most recent public reading of my work: in subText as part of the J Paul Getty Trust ‘Getty Underground’, August 2008.

Art as a distillation of - not a mirror to, nor commentary on - life.

Working on…

September Sun

grins out of doors,

pins out-of-breath children

(ruining their hiding palaces)

against fervid, pasteline hop field's hedges;

unpicks harvest tapestries:

calls away their keepers;

smothers cider-woefully all-drinkers;

they can neither hope for cool to come, nor

lament bright, heat, now wan.

September haze

promises to crawl from behind,

encase; silence late afternoons

in tender draught drops poised

perfectly between damp and dry.

Yet none is drawn to the coppice.

September must

induces tears: arid, dust

drawn from depth below memory.

We know it approaches: year to year,

Here. Hear

September sounds

retreat; tractors, owls, hired workers

wear out tracks home. The tapestry

now grown a layer by the sower, Doso's daughter,

who scans right, left; inweaves

a hearty Gestalt: one year

with the ends of her flax -

moving its rough and steady skein, not

changing it. As the lane

from the hop field's edge

leads the reapers (back)

but does not change them.

September days

nourish those who remember Autumn

and long for summer. All that they baked

in the terra cotta yard by the stable

under the copse firs

has crumbled back into ingredients

to emerge again. Grain gaining.

Either only a matter of time… before it’s all lost to global capital, whose stench has lasted less than 2% of recorded human history. The poorest majority, as always, suffering first - unable yet to match the global élites’ violence, greed and power.

Or the principles of, belief in, and respect for our oneness will drive the return of freedoms perfectly possible since when priests and princes made themselves indispensable in the early City States.

If you’re not part of

… in
many different ways.

Folding Passion and Precision together.