Booklet of Ten Poems and Lino Cut illustrations
Example poem:
Behind the mask (relates to cover)
I saw the figure of the hare under the full Seed Moon, in the balance between night and day.
What manner of hare is she, hideous in half human form, who summons life from death, draws tender shoots from the cold earth, suckles the purblind in their warm nests?
She is sex -
Tooth of lion and slip of ox, all are nurtured at her breast.
I heard the wind moan on the moor and tear the branches of the thorns.
I saw the shadow of the hare, long-cast under the Hunger Moon.
What manner of hare is she, whose phantom haunts the blighted heath, whose stare will freeze the blood of man?
Does she stir the poison pot and snare the guileless in her spell?
She is fear -
Bane of wolf and devil’s bit, a scapegoat for our impotence.
Tonight I saw the she-hare on her form, sheltered beneath the broad hazel tree.
Under the full Milk Moon I watched, a soft breeze carrying the smell of damp earth and bitter green hedgerow fruits.
A simple, wholesome beast is she, her soft lithe body recumbent in the fallen leaves, their rust and russet the very colour of her tawny pelt.
She is flesh -
Warm, breathing, yielding, living flesh.
Booklet of Ten Poems and Lino Cut illustrations
Example poem:
Behind the mask (relates to cover)
I saw the figure of the hare under the full Seed Moon, in the balance between night and day.
What manner of hare is she, hideous in half human form, who summons life from death, draws tender shoots from the cold earth, suckles the purblind in their warm nests?
She is sex -
Tooth of lion and slip of ox, all are nurtured at her breast.
I heard the wind moan on the moor and tear the branches of the thorns.
I saw the shadow of the hare, long-cast under the Hunger Moon.
What manner of hare is she, whose phantom haunts the blighted heath, whose stare will freeze the blood of man?
Does she stir the poison pot and snare the guileless in her spell?
She is fear -
Bane of wolf and devil’s bit, a scapegoat for our impotence.
Tonight I saw the she-hare on her form, sheltered beneath the broad hazel tree.
Under the full Milk Moon I watched, a soft breeze carrying the smell of damp earth and bitter green hedgerow fruits.
A simple, wholesome beast is she, her soft lithe body recumbent in the fallen leaves, their rust and russet the very colour of her tawny pelt.
She is flesh -
Warm, breathing, yielding, living flesh.