<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A galaxy of poets<\/strong><\/p>\n I’d always wondered what we were <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Julian F. Woodford<\/strong>, who lives in Hull, has brought out two poetry pamphlets, Made In Germany<\/em> and the First 3 Months of \u201983<\/em> and received an Ontario Arts Council award for his work. He is a producer\/writer at Dead Bod Films.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A galaxy of poets I’d always wondered what we were when we got together, normally alone, happily fighting the night, unobserved except for lovers and the moon, on a mountainside or shit job, a lock in, holding cell or college bar, too incapable, too much in love with a boy or girl […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","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-14546","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14546","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\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14546"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14546\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14549,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14546\/revisions\/14549"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14546"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14546"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14546"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nwhen we got together, normally
\nalone, happily fighting the night,
\nunobserved except for lovers and the moon,
\non a mountainside or shit job,
\na lock in, holding cell or college bar,
\ntoo incapable, too much in love
\nwith a boy or girl we’ve never met,
\nor a lamp-post on Platform 9,
\nall the same, but different as dogs,
\ntogether, a collective uncollected,
\nraising glasses to the heavens,
\nsolar systems, drunk constellations,
\nPleiades light, too faint for words,
\nclouded over, or giant supernovas
\nexploding from some black hole;
\nno, a galaxy, a galaxy of poets,
\nso many stars, so few household names.<\/p>\n