Andrew Taylor’s Radio Mast Horizon

Radio Mast Horizon 
Andrew Taylor lives in Liverpool. He is a founder member of the Edge Hill University Poetry and Poetics Research Group, and his work has appeared in Troubles Swapped for Something Fresh: Manifestos and Unmanifestos (Salt, 2009) and Otoliths. He is co-editor of erbacce and erbacce-press. As poet-in-residence at Liverpool Architecture and Design Trust he undertook a residency at Liverpool Cathedral where poems and poetics were gathered in the pamphlet Cathedral Poems. He completed a PhD in poetry and poetics in 2008 and teaches English and Creative Writing at Edge Hill University and Nottingham Trent University. Radio Mast Horizon is published by Shearsman Books.
“This collection, the author’s first full-length book, gathers poems written over the past decade. The poems, some gathered from previous pamphlets, are concerned with place, love, identity and mortality. Nature is never far away and neither are the watchful eyes of the cities of Liverpool and New York, their tidal rivers and connections.”
Radio Mast Horizon travels well. Read it on the train, in a hotel room, at the bus stop sheltering from the rain. Andrew Taylor’s absorbing, tender poems see clearly. By turns playful and moving, tender and taut, they make absence tangible. A generous collection that still leaves you, in the best sense, hungry for more.”

– Cliff Yates
“Andrew Taylor is a poet who engages with the world — in all its affects and aspects — and says what he sees with both compassion and wry wit. These poems have a linguistic clarity and invention and observational flair which open us, his readers, into a series of vital encounters with the here and now. Taylor shows us where we live too.”

– Patricia Farrell
“With a voice fresh and responsive, these poems’ chiselled lyricism is firmly located in terms of time and space (and often place). They speak to us from those locations, about love, about absence, about abundance. Their moods shift from the elegiac to the ecstatic and we move with them as we read. Everything is in them, it seems. Including us. At last Taylor’s impressive oeuvre is amassed for the audience it deserves: that’s us too.”

– Robert Sheppard
She Strokes Bees
She strokes bees they must know
of course we do angel mark
faded in sunshine beyond the fringe

shaded face beneath cap follow
the flight of butterflies as they seek
buddleia growing on wasteland

“What colour are the flowers?”
“No, what colour are the flowers?”

A keen eye spotting planes dots to me

On the telephone mast starlings gather
are they being fried slowly
or is it convenient parking?

It gets better every time we meet
Small Poem
If I turn left to St Pancras
          you’ll be at the Champagne bar
under the gaze of Betjeman
while I drink cans of bitter
reading O’Hara
the room too large for me

breakfast can’t come quickly enough
and time for tea before onward journeys
Three Hearts
They’re clearing the snow from
streets that I walked in another
lifetime I see a shaft of
sun highlight a particular point

where a young tree stands marks
the spot I want to revisit these
streets hand held in shared pockets
away from the histories of home

to travel share in the creation
of the new matched possibilities
a time for combined healing
and re-birth of the ordinary

It’s all about coming to terms
with life and love
Poetry and Skin Cream
When the fog lifts and you walk away
I hope that you’ll glance over your shoulder
and wave from the built up distance

December foxes and urban fireflies
the cold comfort of a hiding place.

How the season comforts enables
sleep to be disturbed by machines
as frost filters through the night sky
the process needs assessment
the liquid is dark green
          smells of eucalyptus

a need to be healed

take all the precautions necessary
bathe in lavender foam
reading and trying to unwind

and avoid dreaming of a past
involving ocean views
          at Half Moon Bay
city vistas from the 86th floor
coffee from Peet’s
          doughnuts from Krispy Kreme

a time when the future was bright

heat surrounds as pages turn
offering a glimpse into
          the other side of the American Dream

I think about writing
through the difficulty

epically moving this soundtrack
Like Geese Calling in the Night
They are out there
          our shining hours await
the softest kisses
          as garden constellations

Yellowing lime tree
          leaves a rooted bond
an apple left on a desk
          rots after six months
from Radio Mast Horizon (Shearsman Books, 2013).

Order Radio Mast Horizon.

Visit Andrew’s website.

Visit erbacce-press.

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