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Some Damp City

Jude Marr

a city of bulwarks, home to pent up water-gazers: side streets 

a dreamy seaward throw: glimpses

of fixed rigging: rain-washed benches clinched to deliberate

land: a very nearly world, a city philosophical

whenever November: sea growing grim, I strive to find 

counter reveries: breezes pistol the ocean: wharves 

are silent sentinels: nothing surprises

seated northward, I lean into spume: my mind slips

by degrees: my gaze conjures ships of mortal sight: all old hats

hooked, each false step nailed, I drive off other waves—


elsewhere in the city philosophical, a siren sounds: at the coffin 

warehouse thousands stand, crowds like green fields, each 

little mouth a watery part: torn bills posted years ago weep red 

in some damp city, each drowned bulwark a bloated hope: each 

buoy a substitute head.

Jude Marr is a Pushcart-nominated nonbinary poet who writes to survive. Jude’s first full-length collection, We Know Each Other By Our Wounds, came out from Animal Heart Press in 2020 and they also have a chapbook, Breakfast for the Birds, from Finishing Line Press in 2017. Their work has appeared in many journals, including Kissing Dynamite, Cherry Tree, Harbor Review and SWWIM. Jude recently relocated back to the UK after 10 years of living, teaching, and learning in the US.

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