I've been too excited about the house to be able to concentrate on writing poetry so it's all a bit quiet on the poetry front.
I'm using this time as a note-gathering season so that when I've got the head-space to write I'll have plenty of material to draw from.
After lots of false starts we'll be finally getting the keys to our new house this friday.

I've been playing about with my new phone, recorded an old poem on it that I've given up on but quite like the sound of. I'm pleased at the quality of the phone recording, so I think I'll be trying out some more on it.
Here is the poem, if you click on the title you can hear me read it.

High Rise

the Rannoch Moor rises from the fifteenth floor of us
a tree grows out from the concrete side of us
playground swings fly far below us
the turf of raging winds adore us
our hearts are black     the city lights extol us
bodies lie broken     twisted at the foot of us
the bog lanterns of their eyes reflecting us
as we rise on every side    storey upon storey of us