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Lewis Todd: Two Poems

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 what remains past hours of visitation
             is out of town for time being
  overwhelming quiet en-route: we are 
                        coming as you ought

arrives you      music to
the bay of black
horses, braying and
misting, a quickening

                    carries us            small
                              away against the
                         world’s comings and
                                       goes flight

eyelid flicker, wing-
beat, wing-glide,
out-breathing     She
is waving good-

                                    bye and the
                         door is blue        so
                                    much about

                                so the ring we

choose still
 to wear

                                  this manner
                                   of carriage



horses bound   
                           down river, foam
black-eyed to
                           all as near so true
there must be
                           something better
                            white wine
or hot

only in this
                            could I draw


something              translucent

digestive                system

clung to                 window


arête, canto passes
                     the name backwards           
through the lip
                     of fallen trunk:

         HER iteration is

         the reinvention
                                       of moss   

by way of
                     sculpture park from         
    first principles, the subtractive

art of seeing everything
                                   all at once
                                          all as



                                    we pray it
give sharpness, dorsal fin
     ultraviolet, HIS yellow unspoken

cuts the airy way
                                    hid inside

              that        world of delight

           par-                   ticulars


Lewis Todd is a poet and PhD student based between Cambridge and Hastings, working on Romanticism, ecology, and scale. He has spent the morning picking elderflowers.