Chris Brown

Chris Brown lives in Newcastle. He is writing a collection of poems to be titled hotel universo.







the first coffee doesn’t wake you

you sleep in     then go out   

09:26 and or 28 degrees

but that was minutes ago  

cooks hill books every room

in the house its own genre

half of fiction skimread

like a stylus skating dust  

in the audible distance

know the song not the title

nor the words     no more

than the melody really – the song?

on tiptoes handpicked the lady

and the little dog and other stories      

alternate title try future cruelties –

tonight ol’ petrov’ll tell the beggars of Ukleyevo:

god’ll feed yer at which political point

i’ll say no more     or fall out of the poem




Hesitant Apostrophe


Don’t apologise for your ideas –

I actually liked that one, the way

you describe the light, rounding

the corner, the ice only vapour

on the glass. Things this close


to you. The irises and therein

the kind of longevity we quantify

in an afterlife! The early game.

The wind like nothing we’ve ever seen.

And things we know. I like it. I mean it.