Back to Leafe Home

Back to Catalogue

Kelvin Corcoran came to prominence with his first book, “Robin Hood in the Dark Ages” in 1985. Eight subsequent collections have been enthusiastically received, and his work has been anthologised on both sides of the Atlantic. His “New and Selected Poems” is now avaiable from Shearsman Books. The sequence “Helen Mania” was made a Poetry Book Society choice in 2005.

Corcoran is so skilled with his line and his subject matter, he can help us wake up through his writing: he sweeps from the ancient to the contemporary and back again, often in the same short stanza... his work is linguistically complex, yet emotionally, socially, politically and, above all, poetically (musically) alive.

(Stride Magazine)

Read an extract below

Roger Hilton’s Sugar
Kelvin Corcoran
ISBN: 0-9535401-4-6
£3.50/$8.00  Out of print


You see I am surrounded by these things
a medium like breathing under water,
the Royal Bokhara, the pictures on the wall
I wave as I float by with transparent hands.
My wife's sexy dress hanging there
taken off like a season transformed,
and the organic food jumps into my mouth
as your warm arm falls across me.
The light from the floor landscapes your sleep
and those would be cabbage roses descending,
like red kisses on your perfect cunt
around the dim margin he is on his knees.
Then the great secret settles on everything,
you're sleeping and I launch out into darkness;
ivy pours into the courtyard, I'm half drowned,
face emerging in Spring - Dionysus.


Even the island I speak from is painted by Hilton,
to the rhythm of dropped seeds into instant oleander
and open mouthed cats into swaying boughs;
the riot of ants know the plan
and blue drips from the mighty swimmer.
Interior darkness dissolves in the air
and perfect weather wraps us bodies;
hand in hand like nerve ending sex
my eyes have seen the glory
riding in on a big clam shell.
Let the breeze stir and sing,
lift the shirt off the girl with ample breasts
and cool the hairy god slumped in the breakers;
the two master is trim, we're ready to leave,
the white circuit snaps and ignites.
The all-sea shines lit from below,
childrens' voices scud across the bay
quick ripples enskied in acrylic;
- will you wait for me there?
on the shore of the morning world.