#anthony holness

[eunoiareview]

Handwritten Voices

She doesn’t have long, less than five minutes. If Margaret wants to survive she needs to move quickly. She is trying to get me out of the drawer I’m locked in. The drawer is in a cherrywood desk she inherited two years ago. It is kept in the spare room in her Vauxhall flat. The fire that started in the flat next door is spreading. Smoke is filling the shared landing and starting to seep into the…

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[puissantpen]

Overgrown Garden

Let these books grow around him. Amongst the clods of earth and words ancient fragrances of herbs and thoughts cling to the air, delicate for centuries.

Bookcases tended like a garden of light; pouring poetry where it is needed here, watering with prose read by lamplight there. Every night a nourishing rain floods the hollow places he wanders,

Waiting to be filled with meaning; he treads damp paths of words that lead to hidden forests beyond himself, beyond the borders of being dead, where minds grown still to be read.

Anthony Holness 

(published in Popshot Magazine)