Ford Dagenham

The first poetry chapbook from back room poetry.

This is what Ford has to say –

These poems were written in a time of private space travel,  lingering
sickness and a nascent and plastic zen.
I was worried the words had left me.  I was worried I had left the
words.  I wondered at why I had not yet become a painter.
I looked back rosily to a time that was.  I learned aftermath is not endgame.
I became angry with the weather.  I heard music in all things.  I lost
poems that came perfectly formed in my too often hypnagogic state.  I
imagined myself a lizard, a gun, a guitar.  And when my heart beat too
fast I wondered if plundering my internal ether was any kind of
plagiarism.
I built these poems like pontoons on a figurative lake of glitching
mindfulness.  Toll free stepping stones possibly leading and pointing,
but not reaching, to a distant misty shore.

FD Oct 2022

Here is a taster poem from the chapbook to arouse your poetry appetite:

NOSTALGIA DEAD ENDED FOR THE STASIS MEAT

&

the air freshener

in the hall outlet
smells of  .  .  .


.  .  .  nostalgia



smells of when i smelt that smell


from the hall outlet

another time


before

Nostalgia opera & streetside meat

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