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Eyewear will be announcing the winner of the Melita Hume Poetry Prize in early June.  We are now halfway (at number 6) through our alphabetic posting on each of the 12 shortlisted poets.  I include a copy of the whole list below as well, to jog your memories.
Anna Mace has an interest in modernist, symbolist and experimental poetry traditions.  Within her multi-disciplinary approach she is keen to explore relationships between text, art, science and performance.  Recent work includes, collaborative project and publication, Revolve:R with film responses to her poetry by artists, Rammatik, One Five West and Maria Anastassiou. She will be poet in residence for the National Trust, summer 2015.  She has lived in Europe, India and Japan but now resides in Bristol, UK. 
Not I


It was one to remember, 

this one,

(weighted like a holy book).

More, {like scrunched up wings}

sought Kafka, for glimpses

of the world.  Melete on the left,

her shadow a compass, <Take a

chance on the 4-1-4, wait for me? >

Posting moments gratefully,

celebrating with pride

{like a framed odyssey}.  <It was


impossible to fail>, she said.

So we got married in a

single breath.  The possibility

of union was exciting atoms with                        

our fingers; vibrating form to

thought.  Puncturing fantasies we

tucked them urgently into secrets

{like pigs in blankets}. 

More, faithful we,

{like messages folded into promises},

hoped EPICAC would re-write the future.


He, showed upside-down worlds

and fading light {across distorted sight},

without human lenses. 

We watched men {½ Hitler, ½ Jesus},

<peel back and step inside>; purposeful,

{like cockroaches

crawling between creases}.  The

smudged colours of cut-out worlds,

where [wise] Solomon built a headstone

to artists: <[here lies] The Music Of The Spheres>.

Bleeding black patterns

snaking between centuries

{like words date-stamped, for return}.

More, deluded,

{like battling universes virtually},

creators exploded bombs perfectly.

Captured photos, our dust will

<always leave a trace>.  [Here lies]

progress; Paratheses.  {[Pause].  Infinity}.

Setting sail into an abyss,

it was an epic[AC] journey, {I} we said,

{like all our favourite dreams}.
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