Poetry and Art by Veronica Aldous
There is a long piece of light which the day has left uncheeed. It’s sliding down the frame of the door. Soon, twilight will come.
The black stag comes. He is heavier than silence. His blood is the dank dark of the forest ponds. His antlers are black and peeling. Raw fleshy tatters hang in violent ribbons, remains of bracken and sphagnum. He is decorated in the way of dog soldiers who believe…
Little rabbit girl
I have my head stuck in a bush, maybe my head is a bush already. It’s of full thorns and coiled up ferns. Maybe it’s like Christ only I am not very holy.
I am meant to be concentrating on making good or mortgages, or something.
But I keep thinking about ink and how nice it is to spit out words.
How nice it is under here, I can see poisonous berries and a wren.
Wet rainy street. Watercolour. By Veronica Aldous. Love painting streets and figures.
Grey Hare. Carbon and pen.