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’ – Steve Matthews
other poems lay bare the maddening trials of a historically literate mind as it attempts to navigate a world gone post-content
of “open water”
to an audience that is surprised to find itself more chastened
In the Quaker Hotel by Helen Tookey David Borrot ’ – Steve MatthewsIn the title poem, the speaker sits at the window of a small hotel room. The room is a holding zone, a temporary stopping place between memory and possibility. In the Quaker Hotel is full of questions about the world. Rooted in nature, the poems are fearful for it. They move out through identifiable landscapes (Merseyside, north Wales, Nova Scotia, southern France) to off kilter, tilted places beyond our immediate reality. We are temporary guests in
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