You are browsing the archive for Richard Brammer.


July 6, 2011 in Poets At Work


This poem was written in September 1999 in England.

Prodding, grabbing, shooting, fishing

that’s what you do here

at the end of this lunatic’s pier,

the two-pence shufflers, sifting,

the grey Irish sea and its subsidiary

industries: guesthouses, comedians,

suppliers of coin operated machinery;

Maria Petulengro will give advice

to people from all walks of life;

the onion ring pub beside a motorway;

everyone absurd in chip shops.

Remember the Godfrey Thompson era, the rides,

we laughed as we snapped vertebrae,

broke our noses on the Big Dipper.

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