Clive Culverhouse Poems

If the flames
do not turn your bones into ash
your bones will rot
deep in the ground
...

ABORT ABORT
but Donaldson was already drifting
further and further away from us
the thickness of his suit decreasing
...

there will be a baby crying
in the next room, but not yet
people are still standing around
my bed and I'm still on my last breaths
...

Long have I stood
Long stood have I gazed
Long gazed have I thought
Long thought have I suffered
...

the hapless toad
who croaked a verse
and moved the trees around him
...

nights
of black
- - maybe - -
but it's in
...

White Ted looked flat;
that hair and pyjama bed smell.
She was getting heavier
...

Homo Machina
The Future Of Human Evolution

grey will not do metallic's justice
...

this death will be the life of me
patches in the sky
we used to call them clouds
before the bombs went off
...

he entered the room as if rice was about to boil over,
seeing faces of those he didn't recognise look as though
they were reading the last line of a book they never read
before, staggered, asymmetrically pensive in times during
...