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from<\/em> THE POETRY OF ERIC B. ESCHELAS<\/strong><\/p>\n The Book<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cCome, wet book, dearest receiver \u201cI carried you to the sky \u201cwith muttering The Clear<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n In this dream We rise, clear of Stratosphere, The Cyclops<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n I slew Gogmagog with an endless sword I vaulted the ocean\u2019s deepest rifts, clothed only I reached beneath the meadow of stars, withdrew a stone, red in evening, cool as a pillow And now I reach for the hand, limp in sleep, buried its fingers curled, as if beckoning <\/p>\n <\/p>\n James Roome<\/strong> is a poet and teacher from Manchester. He believes in grass, trees, sky, hair, and Belgium. Further than that, he can’t say<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" from THE POETRY OF ERIC B. ESCHELAS The Book \u201cCome, wet book, dearest receiver of little gifts. I didn\u2019t believe her when she said you would lift the world a little closer. \u201cI carried you to the sky on wings, sprouted from my cyclops eye. Together, we scouted hills and valleys, alive […]<\/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-7254","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7254","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=7254"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7254\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7256,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7254\/revisions\/7256"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7254"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7254"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7254"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nof little gifts.
\nI didn\u2019t believe her
\nwhen she said you would lift
\nthe world a little closer.<\/p>\n
\non wings, sprouted
\nfrom my cyclops eye.
\nTogether, we scouted
\nhills and valleys, alive<\/p>\n
\ntrees.\u201d Book became
\nautumn leaves.<\/p>\n
\nI am several \u2013 a wren
\nsmuggled in the plumes of an eagle \u2013
\nthe calling of men
\nthrough morning\u2019s dull.<\/p>\n
\nover land and sea,
\nover veils cast, sheer,
\nsuspended by cities,
\nover the lull<\/p>\n
\nexosphere,
\nof sleep.<\/p>\n
\nof rain.<\/p>\n
\nin weeds.<\/p>\n
\na shining gift \u2013<\/p>\n
\nby an open window.<\/p>\n
\nin the hair of time,<\/p>\n
\nmy circle eye.<\/p>\n