I doubt wordpress will show a hi-res version of the image above (You probably have to upgrade to another plan to use hi res or to include a widget that allows zoom-in feature or something) , a snapshot of some of my books, I use it as a wallpaper on my PC, it was in fact an intention to start reviewing and commenting on them all, not least because I could find out what they’re worth should tragedy happen and they are given to a charity shop for nothing.
The sound of neglected ancient floorboards
Whisper in a moan to all trespassers,
Buckle with a groan from slumber,
A sound of doorways ancient open,
A slow drawn cry of wisdom lost.
If the floorboards that I tread,
Whose sounds an ache of submission heard,
Were images to hold…
Old books would, from a mist arise.
Or, if a smell from sound could conjour,
Resins drawn from a cemetery,
Benzoin, Elemi, Myrhh and Aloes
Over peat and charcoal burnt.
Or taste! If sound reflected then
Dark ales upon the tongue I dream,
Perhaps an old reserve from dust
A silky warm Pinot Noir.
And, lastly, what if those yawning boards
A soul in flesh were born,
A silent crone behind a veil
In humour always conspiring
With gnarled fingers tapping heartbeats time,
The progress to our finale.
Poem originally from ‘Anna Manners~Why Love Spells dont work‘ and Elsewise Magazine ~Issue no.2
The Western Gate 
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