Four Poems by H. K. G. Lowery

 

TINNITUS

 

Noun, ˈtɪnɪtəs, tinnitus: ringing or buzzing in the ears;

mid 19th century: from Latin, from tinnire, “to ring, tinkle”, of imitative origin

 

Aeneas clung to mast leaving Troy     the helm out of hands    hard to have faith in something 

faceless, hard not to love something so helpless        the offensive Facebook messages on a bus 

to Boots    the stella-drinking Gammon        convinced Covid is a hoax    convinced white lives 

matter    convinced Biden is a Satanic reptilian paedophile pawn                     the ringing never

stopped           concern in the nurse’s eyes         otoscope        plugs pressed into ears    placed

a remote in the palms of Aeneas like          an unwanted sword                the soundwaves died 

as doors closed        the same silence of an ocean   Aeneas couldn’t hear his lungs implore 

oxygen          dull frequency              high frequency             higher frequency          no frequency

 

She reclaimed equipment             brought Aeneas from the booth like a Baptist would a sinner

from water               “Have you seen The Sound Of Metal?”              Aeneas nodded and knew

leaving the band was leaving a dream that stays after sleep            over caffeine and scratches 

and questions         Aeneas left             the beers before Motörhead tapestries    the paradiddles 

in Black Sabbath         sticks haven’t hit skin since     and skin forgets, blisters and bruises      

and blood                and the ringing never stopped           a phone call never answered           

concussion that never settles                     something turning people insane

 

 

COINCIDENTALLY SAT WITH PAUL MULDOON

@ PLATFORM FOUR; A FALSE EPILOGUE

                I went to Wetherspoons broke and lonesome in Lancaster;

        a Caesar salad and raspberry kombucha to detox the twelve pints of Friday night

while bald builders trade insults like trebuchets with blind eyes to the pain they deny



their toxic masculinity by shy teens smiling at fake IDs.



I sat on platform four, soaked and shaking, knowing nicotine would make cinematic scene.

I heard the accent a mask muffled, inching down the desolate platform (where I take

    trains for planes for Dido). He said: “I remember you.” Conversations of Reykjavík,

              trainspotters and The Royal Mail leaving lips.



                                  Trains stole attention, and he left me with the question I never asked.

 

KING CHARLES SPANIEL EULOGY (INTERLUDE)

Aeneas cried on the phone; his voice

cracked it’s okay, dry with defeat.

Anchises said: “His eyes said:

‘I’ve had enough.’ He went painless,

son.” The same look he left with homeless

Aeneas – those brown-turned-blue eyes,

glazed with cataracts, cries, those matted ears

of chocolate waterfalls, frail bones,

and ‘the breath of a thousand camels’ –

the heart, heavy as the hangover,

an afternoon

of cancelled trains, from Leeds to Lancaster –

the way the sun shone over Long Preston,

listening to Seventeen Going Under –

the way you feel lost after loss:

a beach, a melody, a memory. Crossing

countryside, Aeneas thought now,

I don’t hold you from your fattened belly

but by the edges of old photographs

we never used to appreciate. Packing

bowls and blankets into boxes,

a printed pawprint, a tuft of fur in glass,

Aeneas never got to say goodbye

to his best friend at rest at last.

 

 

On Nero Playing A Lyre While Rome Burned

 

Myth becomes mirror, framed

with obscenity,

           insanity,

               to see myself through: the outcast,

                          calm in the chaos that clasps & kills,

                                              chapters of ash

                 that follow flame;

                                  & pain, the apocalypse,

                                        reflected in an iris

               to The Destruction of Troy –

strings sing, & I,

    watching the wildfire,

mad & numb & decent,

        begin to laugh,

where the night

      makes light look more

wonderful.

 

H. K. G. Lowery is a writer & musician from Gateshead (United Kingdom). He gained a Distinction in his Masters degree in Creative Writing from Graduate College, Lancaster University, where he worked with Paul Muldoon, Paul Farley & Terry Eagleton. The Department of English Literature & Creative Writing awarded him with the 2021/2022 Portfolio Prize for his “outstanding performance” as highest-achiever in The Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences. Lowery has been shortlisted for The Bedford International Award & The Terry Kelly Poetry Prize, & longlisted for The Fiction Factory Flash Competition. His publications include: An Enquiry into the Delight of Existence and the Sublime (Austin Macauley Publishers, 2020), Being and Becoming (Kindle Direct Publishing, 2021), Death, And Other Angels (Errant, 2022), 9:45 Drama (Kindle Direct Publishing, 2022) & Moonflowers (Aurum Journal, 2023). To date, Lowery has been published in: Poetry Salzburg, Amsterdam Quarterly, Pennine Platform, Obsessed With Pipework, Publishers Weekly, Hyacinth Review, The Ofi Press, Hearth & Coffin, StepAway Magazine, Dreich Magazine, Granny’s Tea Poetry Magazine, Train River Publishing, Sylvia Magazine, Patchwork, Wildfire Words, Lancaster Flash & Disabled Tales.