Two poems by Anthony Hitchin

Poetry
by Anthony Hitchin

Another Glass

Fractal
we approach knowledge as splinters
catching brief glimpses
of similar reflections
dissipating before they crystallise and we are sucked
into the same consensus bandwidth;

where we are everything but
ourselves … .

In the morning before turning
the tap something
scratches at
the back of our necks,
alien,
parasitic …

if it scratches at night we drink.

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Brochure of the Future

Taut, fresh skin giving interviews. Like some bachelors playing young men. Fucking suburban housewives in marital beds. They are our actors.
In plants and flowers, blind to anomalies. Cute, harmless sages idling with rosy cheeks … .

Everything sparkled new and clean, media-friendly. Happy and satisfied elders grown old in a safe way. The brochure showed no grey. Just sepia images. Characteristics of a happy demeanour. Cartoon landscaped gardens. Octogenarian Adam and Eves clutching apples. Polished like marble.

Incontinent/dementia elder men/women specification centres.
Set behind trees, not on the media tour, this flourishing Indian summer does not contaminate them. These pearls of wisdom. Respectful and romanticised for a young and fearful generation. Deaf to all conscience. The shopping centre babies. Delivered on black, rubber conveyors.
Sticky with new beginnings.

Author bio:

Antony Hitchin is a sometimes heretical purveyor of poetry and prose. Poetry is one of his more respectable vices and he has been published in numerous small press and independent journals including ‘3AM’, ‘Zygote in my Coffee’, ‘Underground Voices’, ‘Ditch’ and ‘Guild of Outsider Writers.’ He is interested in violating both poetic and social conventional ’norms’ and is currently working on chapbooks of cut-up poetry and his first full-length poetry collection. Antony is particularly passionate about trying to transcend dualities and binaries in his work. You can catch newly updated experiments at: www.myspace.com/antonyhitchin and Anthony Hitchin.