Luke Bateman

The Felling of Yggdrasil

"Worlds branch off like capillaries From an oaken aorta"

Uneven Sideburns

"Empty time lent shape by the weekly rites Of chiselling the stubble away"

Return to Oxford

"A peal of percussive raindrops tumble from towering heavens. A lonely leaf joins the fray in a willowing, whispering wash."

Eventual Ghosts

As we sailed on enthralled in the pursuit of some ardent glory

Punctuate As The State Sees Fit

Before we were mad We could dance as we wanted

Oxford By Night

Immortality comes not in cobweb, but in gold tinged stone.

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Luke Bateman

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