Hi readers! I've had three poems published on the Bristol Festival of Literature website in their writing section.

Have a look!:

• Yellow Chair
• This House Wears
• Breathless Chord

If you're anywhere near the Bristol UK area, definitely pop round to the Bristol Festival of Literature! It's really different to other literature festivals with a distinctive Bristol vibe.

See you there!

This urbanscape lies down,
It's nature is to wait for prey

By watching its own chest rise,
Each breath an opportunity,
Each passer-by a potential victim,
As hills beneath them ebb and flow.

Each tree a finger, each branch a claw.
Each fight inside awaiting dawn.
The milkman is a tasty morsel,
But butchers the filet mignon.

It's aide these subjects expect—
Not running and eluding death.
It's rush-hour in the city
where rushers speak their dialect.
These street are feeding frenzied;
These people are in the city.

This urbanscape lies down,
It's nature is to wait for prey

Beneath each car, inside each gate—
Each fountain eye as bright as day,
The keener they spy, the closer the fate.

Every building an arm, each lamppost a dagger.
Each drop of blood the morning after.

I finally got our first proof copy of the book and I've already littered it with sticky notes for changes to make! I'm so stoked to see it in the flesh. Overall, I love the look of it, and the hardcover is super nice!

I think probably when we're done editing and making the design tweaks Upptäcka Press will do a giveaway of this copy! So to stay in the loop, subscribe to get email updates.

My name is Chris Lorensson, and this website is for my poetry. I've been writing poetry for about 15 years, and (very soon) in 2011 my poetry book Slurp, Gulp and start on Sounds will be published by Upptäcka Press. It's about 200 pages, containing around 170 poems spanning the last 15 years of my writing.

Over the coming months, I'll be updating this website with news and progress of how the book is coming along. Please subscribe to the RSS feed for news about my poetry, and visit http://upptacka.com/subscribe to be the first to know when the book is available for purchase.

Thanks again!

Chris Lorensson

We could be depraved any minute of the day,
laid down like Cayman Islands' habitual silence.

laid down like flaming wicker, flames and flicker.

There's peace in absence – and I'm left wanting

We balance atop a playful STAND [who]
promises to support us [and]
oath like no one else can do.
help lay down my head, upon a pillow          on my bed

We could be engaged   any   minute   of   the   day
wand'ring about why, or
wond'ring about why

But we stay  —  straight.

We discuss the ways to stay up late:
Cappuccino, látte, Betty Page.
Wilford Brimley, Bonnie Raitt.

We construct a waiting game –
playing each-others' turns away.

Keep our feet on the ground,
our heads are in the clouds,
stop the discussion & get us down,
with oath like no one else can do– promise to support me.

We stay
on display
any minute of
the day.
Fingers twitching, let us speak.
We're needy kids so leave us be.
Hit me with that Windex, kid –
and clear a way for us to leave.

laid down

We go down, and sleep on our knees.
Time slows by, and then rewinds.
We arise, still hear breathing like too much reverb…
exhaling wet breath on our jeans.          un-do-ing our seams           unravelling           exposing our knees

Asleep when things aren't always as they seem, reluctant,
to expose anything, like, say, ourselves ever again

There's enough of that in the world, but people keep on giving
Such generosity mends itself like a soldier in the bush
tending to press-on rather than dress his wounds.

Such exposition's like endless direction…
Concentration as time,     sadly ends.

Clamber…          up and be on the right or left side          to begin.
It's all so messy, but we must begin.