Stuart Buck is a poet and author living in north Wales. His debut collection of poetry, Casually Discussing the Infinite, peaked at 89 on Amazon’s World Poetry chart and his second book I Am Very Far will be released on Selcouth Station Press in 2019. When he is not writing or reading poetry, he likes to cook, juggle and listen to music. He suffers terribly from tsundoku – the art of buying copious amounts of books that he will never read.
~~~~~
the fawn
something soft fell to the earth that night
still warm from descent, chalk on slate
the sleep abandoned heard the faint hum –
damp leather crack as it hit the island
pulsing, the colour of ripe corn and battery yolks
the smell of june drop fruit and charcoal
from its bowels crawled a single white fawn
all teeter and stumble, dripped with mucus
from the throat of a child, grunting and screaming
sweetest armageddon, a crown of ashoka atop its head
~~~~~
rapture 1
after james tate
yes, we caught our breath in the rose garden
to synchronicity it fell as we lay
like ampersand, glistening naked in the moonlight
as a hum of fuzz on a smoky breeze settled
upon your pale thigh, a dandelion wisp, an interloper
announcing the time has come
and so as everything diminished,
as the brume took hold
we clung on to that beautiful seed
up! up! up through the clouds
until you cried for those left below
a pale ocean of sin
~~~~~
ISACOUSTIC* 
Reblogged this on kingsoftrain.
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