David Lindley was born in 1945. The poems in this collection are reflections on a post-war childhood, growing up in the industrial West Riding of Yorkshire. They range from short untitled poems with a haiku-like quality, to longer poems which, perhaps, exorcise some demons that occasionally still haunt the poet’s waking and dreaming life.

Boys on the way to school
biting into crusts.
Raspberry-red smiles.


The smell of coal dust
oil damp wood leather
tobacco manliness
behind the cellar door.
Ah, cellar door
Poe thought
the most beautiful words
in the English language. 


Love suffocates
but also exposes you
to snow-filled
wellington boots
leg irons
nit combs
shavings of green
soap up your arse
the admonition
of curtains drawn
against the coming
of night
and tomorrow.