He currently co-ordinates literature events for the Museum of London Docklands and was commended in the National Poetry Competition and was a runner up in the Bridport Prize. He runs a fellow South East poetry evening in Greewich called The Hold in Oliver's bar in Greenwich.
He's also lovely, and we're really excited about having him read for us. You can listen to him read here, and see more of his poetry on the blog that doubles as a poetry bible- Todd Swift's Eyewear. Here's a poem Chris sent us.
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What Gives
Today, you'll do nothing
save rejoice in the coming together
of duvet and skin,
and, when you stretch, your metabolic rate
will be measured
by the slow and unending
dripping of the shower head,
your eyelids sealed with the diamantine
crystals of sleep.
And when the phone rings,
let it ring. Such things can wait.
And when the washing-up,
without warning, subsides
further into the unplumbed depths
of the sink, as if nudges
by a poltergeist, let it soak
in its own juices. If only you could
drown the interference
of speech, the sound of footsteps
outside on the high street:
clodhopping, affirming the urge
to carry on carrying on.
Surely, these distractions merely affirm
the desire for something
refined to narrative.
The way even distant voices
can carry if weighted
by some deeper significance,
each syllable lent meaning
by the reach of our minds.
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