{"id":1226,"date":"2008-04-21T16:26:00","date_gmt":"2008-04-21T16:26:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=1226"},"modified":"2008-04-21T16:26:00","modified_gmt":"2008-04-21T16:26:00","slug":"three-pieces-by-julian-stannard","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/three-pieces-by-julian-stannard\/","title":{"rendered":"Three pieces by Julian Stannard"},"content":{"rendered":"

Bob Dylan Plays Down in the Port<\/span>
(Genoa 1992)<\/span>


We were almost at the end of the world<\/span>
on the uppermost floor<\/span>
in earshot of the world\u2019s ghostliest ships.<\/span>
The baby was asleep in his cot.<\/span>
Darling, your breasts were my nest.<\/span>
Just to twitch was to feel<\/span>
a cascade of sweat down our necks.<\/span>
We\u2019d heard they\u2019d flown in <\/span>
a god who\u2019d died to be revived.<\/span>
Heat made porridge of us.<\/span>
You blinked when that growl<\/span>
drifted from the port<\/span>
and bade us sleep.<\/span>


~ ~ ~ ~ ~<\/span>


An Itch in the City<\/span>


A purple slipper lies in the street:<\/span>
an itch in the city, a bishop in flight.<\/span>


~ ~ ~ ~ ~<\/span>


Drowned City<\/span>
(November 2002)<\/span>


What struck me most<\/span>
about the<\/span>
drowned city<\/span>
was the way in which<\/span>
a whole generation<\/span>
of umbrellas<\/span>
was wiped out.<\/span>

Some were shoved<\/span>
cruelly into litter boxes.<\/span>
But many just drifted <\/span>
around like tramps, <\/span>
zombies, <\/span>barboni<\/span>
giving us the questionable benefit<\/span>
of their death-rattle.<\/span>

The unequivocally dead <\/span>
lay on broken backs,<\/span>
their thin bones<\/span>
showing signs <\/span>
of torture.<\/span>



<\/font>\u2022
\nJulian Stannard teaches creative writing at the University of
\nWinchester and has published two collections with Peterloo Poets.<\/font>

<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Bob Dylan Plays Down in the Port(Genoa 1992)We were almost at the end of the worldon the uppermost floorin earshot of the world\u2019s ghostliest ships.The baby was asleep in his cot.Darling, your breasts were my nest.Just to twitch was to feela cascade of sweat down our necks.We\u2019d heard they\u2019d flown in a god who\u2019d died […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1226","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1226","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1226"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1226\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1226"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1226"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1226"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}