Poem of the week is by Adam Crothers called 'Carbon Copy' and is featured in the latest edition of the Honest Ulsterman.

To read more from the edition and see more artwork like the image above by Kate Nolan click here

Carbon Copy

Ciaran Carson, 9 October 1948–6 October 2019

Not only the best syntax being in permanent flux.

The constant flux of state being incompatible with

the swift-cached and oft-uneditable status update.

The spider turning down, eight times, a postprandial mint.

Rejecting, too, four hot white A5 towels: steam presses

that might have prised from its hands the soft gloves, or the second

skin, newly secreted from a fountain pen just now filled,

as instead it follows, the spider, a snagged lead. Graphite.

Charters. The white queen trading her ply into the works. O’er-

reaching with one arm until another slicks up the pack.

The convert’s pack of flash cards, each smaller than a flash drive

and compacting more. BÉAL FEIRSTE. ESPERANTO. SNOW.How

the wheels are greased until becoming, in their turn, grist. How

the operating system numbers errors it can’t know.

Linen sheets. Pulp. The average weight of volumes displaced

in order to reach that sought at the back of the triple-

stack. The snail, hanging itself on the peg that is its hat.

The flyleaf, bugged, overexposed to what the spider has

fingerprinted, flax-blue, under. A map of the river:

scar, skein, scrim. Skeletons; quays. Loughs. Lag. The basin wherein

the spider reravels that chart of Styx and homophones,

hoarsely snorts that long line of black horse into its nosebag.

Quantity of horsepower being less of a driving

force than is correct application of the blinkers, the

hazards. The piston converter. The uncertainty as 

to whether the chain should be drawn clockwise or anti- in

order to lower or raise – as if to finesse the point-

fold of a flax-fibre pocket square – the cobweb-badged blind.