Watchkeeper for Gwilym Williams   Pixels break a thousand spaces where floating faces rise.   Sun clambers over hills to a black cross.   That shines your eyes back into it,   breathing in villages, towns, cities mourning cemented onto walls.   Plumed objects placed in corners looking back at us.   _____ Your poems tell me how you loved these lanes:   Primroses, brambles, lichen, moss, birches thickening.   Walking to school, a prison to a small boy with dirty knees   you chewed a pencil until teeth touched lead.   Then something flecked its ambition:   An inscape mediated the inscribed hymn   of fire, hearth, light. Patterns… Read More →