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poetry favourites:
Cinnamon Press
Little Toller Press
The Poetry School
Long Poem Magazine
PN Review


in the shop…
collections –
Cinnamon Press;

“Double Edge”
Pighog Press;
joint collection –
“Poetry & Prose Excchange”
(with artist Chris Drury),
Little Toller;
novels –
“The Milliner and the Phrenologist”,
Cinnamon Press;




Montana: 15th September

Third day in Small Town, Montana:
            one flat road through Ponderosa pines
            cabins, trailers, long-beard bikers
                                      hotel, motel, casino
            Make America Great Again Trump Fundraiser tonight
            two grizzly bears stuffed and mounted.
            Yesterday, at dusk, I disturbed
            a Great Blue Heron
                        drawing reluctantly from the creek
                        an awkward rise, legs unfolding,
                        its grace yet present in the sleek neck
                        and slow effort
            and I supposed, in wild nature, there could be no hurrying
                        no mistakes, no greed or unkindness
                        no taking for taking’s sake
                        no covenant-decreed sacrifice of others.
            Then this afternoon I bought a potato-masher
            at the Variety Store,
                        the shopkeeper’s mother
            was from Leeds, England, she said
                        and there are too many I-ranians
                        coming and taking our jobs
                        and the President
            is letting them live right next door
            bringing in their bombs
            and they hate us, right
            so they can go right back home
                        and leave the jobs for Americans
                        for us Seniors, just trying to pay our taxes.

And to my right and to my left
            men ate wild Mallard
each an entire duck blooding their plates.
            Now this evening, the creek below the pines
             is silver-pink
             shimmering toward the dark
and I think of the river running through us
             quietly asking its questions,
             low, beneath thought.

Kay Syrad

Second Prize, The Poetry School Diary Competition 2016