Brook Emery

Brook Emery is.

The Distance and the Heat

The river’s dried up, just the hard sheen of mud and the cracks like lizard skin to tell where water once had pooled and the smell that rises with the day, the rotting on the bank, the release of flies …

Posted in 06: NEW POETRY | Tagged

A Twist of Hemp

Not knowing a cloverleaf from a half-hitch, I sentimentalise ropes and knots. Lariats with their cunning slipknot, the bound strands of bowlines so furred and stiff with salt they’ll never part; even the drop of the hangman’s noose, the knot …

Posted in 03: NEXT WAVE | Tagged