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Tome On The Range

Two Poems By: Stacey Teague
Karl Smith , March 9th, 2014 09:57

Back from its short, continental jaunt new poetry comes this week - in its now-familiar double-dose - from London's Stacey Teague

Stacey Teague lives in London, has a book of poetry forthcoming from Scrambler Books in Summer 2014.

water: brighton, taken from stacey teague's tumblr (as below)

She can be found online here:


what summertime makes you feel nostalgic for, everything opens up,
and the air is salt water

we thought that in the warmth we could make ourselves impenetrable.
however, as much as we want something to give ourselves over to, the
seasons don't decide the ways that we should be, and despite where i
decide to lay my body, it is always winter where you are. it's true that i
feel how i've always felt, with my body drawn inward, i throw thoughts
out into the ocean, to the land mass on the other side

do you know how sometimes you can melt into your computer screen

yesterday i sat in the grass and spoke to a cat for an hour while the
moon ate the sun. i spread my arms out wide on the ground and
watched as mosquitos drew blood from my skin. outside looking out to
the horizon i thought that my body could go on forever and it does,

at what point do you have to give yourself up, how can we ever be

there are always much worse things to think about, only now we have
learnt to swallow them way down into our bodies so that our feet
become anchors, keeping us tethered to whatever

what are your ghosts, what inhabits you

i want to transform my body into something other, like when i hide in my
sheets at night i am really just trying to become smaller. when there is a
need to make space within yourself for yourself

what is it that you love, how much have you loved, and for how long

i think back to a time where the days were oceanic and i long for that
much like i long for you pressing your fingers into guitar strings, swatting
flies, love ing me. right now i am drinking lemons and holding my knees,


all i want to be is close to people

we do crazy things when we are lonely or in love or both

everyone i talk to says that they are fucked romantically
what is our capacity to love

it seems impossible to know just how much love is contained inside of
this body

but my guess is bloody heaps

i feel so much love for everything, incl. the trees and especially the trees

in an email my friend said, "i can't pretend that i think there's anything to
live for apart from each other"

standing by the harbour in the cold and the sunshine looking at the
people's faces who are looking at my face and we are all smiling and
there is no reason to be sad when we are all together

for your goodbye i waited in the darkness trying not to move so i could
remember how you looked then in the light of your phone. you talked
softly so as not to wake anyone up. i hope i never forget what it felt like
to be with you and then to not be with you. the dichotomy of those
things made me feel alive. i feel sad because i know i will forget one
day. i will forget all of these beautiful things

but at least there will be new beautiful things to replace old things

because summer will always turn into autumn so long as we are in the world

that is enough to be alive for