Alex Winter

Poetry: Alex Winter

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AREOPAGITE The cloud moves, low, across the landscape, leaving a slick of rainwater on the backs of cows. It passes through the mind of a priest and into the eyes of a fourteen year old girl. It is a pestilence.  A curse upon the territory. In the villages they are rasping for bread. No chickens … Read more

BREXIT – A Poem

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Once I had finished it I didn’t understand my own poem, so how could you? There had been a moment when, possessed by a sort of deftness, I had made choices about matters such as line length but now all that had left me. I was confused. The intriguing question is what path led me … Read more