AnnMarie Eldon rests 1 field 'system' driven and driven through furrowed browns ahedged by rhoes, which, formalised, symbolise the War Dead but spring does not remember cold death its dearth of joy to come frozen as it were by some other season's values and then there's dubium, named after its long head: this distinction not a car-given thing but referenced. A make-over about to happen horse chestnut has turned to rags, a tree-drop knot rug, which, yes, can be spotted and driven upon. The greater fallen cordoned off in farer fields marked by no birds' song, long, long gone and driven underground, a former generation, many freezes, many thaws 'The Field Guide' shows five different poppies I shall never feel driven to visit millions, five or otherwise; graves, their bloodshed lingering and dung 2 tree, free and TV rabid, a once miniature spruce has molared its 2 by 1 by 3 house-brick enclosure from the freebie bowl, another miniature reads "Delicate Care" and turning over :ammonium laureth sulphate, ammonium lauryl sulphate, cocamidolpropyl betain, coconut monoethanolamide, citric acid, disodium EDTA, sodium chloride, perfume, dyestuff, preservative, water on TV, a lean soldier bites the bullet for the crew ceremoniously carrying a booby trap bomb to roadside disposal. He owes more to up-line responsibility than any sovereign nature hard line discipline or soft marketability could account there's no list no fresh... no reverse I saw, dig, turn off carve saw carve saw break root discrepancy until growth cracks and the salt spore cycle finally breaks wash make dirt good fake doubt clean 3 play/sleep borage that there is, looped bent by rain's bash, its blue droophead held by a cane hoop and bugloss pricking up well from a storm, a storm of shade, a pallid storm afternoon and a trapped bee spat taps and swoons a mood. A singularity suddenly suppressed drift chat, quick kick laugh snatched from the street into an-un-slow doze, wherefore no greys, no shades (yet dreamt hiking the Ridgeway route) but thought delays panicked back 'n forth. Grass sloppings, which do not half-life, but decay their unserious selvage to be cleared self shoring these future scattereds a day's rules diablowed as if scentelves could lavish some transcendental hint within the minced mind's pilgrimage AnnMarie Eldon was born in Birmingham, England. She has divided homes and irony between the US and UK and travelled India, the Himalayas and Asia. She now attempts her escape from mediocrity within the confines of a picturesque Oxfordshire town, juggling hormones, various children, dogs and personae interiorae. Her work was, is or will be at Can We Have Our Ball Back, Del Sol Review, elimae, Melic Review and many other places. She is a 2004 Pushcart Prize nominee and is published by Anchor Books, Forward Press and Triumph House.