Poetry
Haibun Littoral
Locked inside office hours, I look at a map and plan my next walk. What’s reachable, what could be done in one stretch without injury. I’m drawn to a patch of shore I haven’t walked in over twenty years, a patch that contains just enough of the basic commodities to be called a beach, rather than a waterfront, or land’s end. Train out, walk, two buses back. It’s modest, but still, anything is ambitious beyond the confines of one’s desk. At the most northerly point of this beach, you can climb a few small rocks and stand at the back wall of a shoreline house, where no one else goes, and feel the sea for yourself. I stood there a few times during university years, walking down between lectures, when neither the library nor anyone’s company was appealing. Odd, that this small scene has stayed with me, the humble ingredients of
stone, moss, seaweed and sand
waxing back into the memory
like a rare wave.
Colin Dardis
Colin Dardis is a neurodivergent poet, editor and sound artist from Northern Ireland. His recent poetry collections include with the lakes (above/ground press, 2023) and What We Look Like in the Future (Red Wolf Editions, 2023). He currently co-hosts the long-running Poetry Poetry open mic night in Belfast, and is editor of the poetry blog, Poem Alone.