Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to...


Paul Hawkins

The (in)famous squatted community of Claremont Road in Leyton East London was the final bastion of resistance to the building of the M11 Link Road. Dorothy (Dolly) Watson, who was born in number 32, and had lived there nearly all her life, became friends with the anti-road protesters, saying “they’re not dirty hippy squatters, they’re the grandchildren I never had”






Number 52: Casey  


She flutters thin shingle on 5 a.m. glass; he stirs, looks out to the darkness, pads downstairs and is careful over the creaky sixth step, out through the backdoor, breaks into a sprint over the wet grass toward her: his leave expires in 17 hours. She is leaning against the shed,


the light-blue Converse angled against wood; Casey drops her chin, looks at him over the frames of Rockit Dog glasses; he is silent, delivers a spark to her cigarette with a Bic lighter, runs his finger across her cheekbone; she licks-up smoke, lips out a name; “Tracey Rourke?”


He risks a “who?” into the sand-bucket silence - at close quarters steals a glance at her, sees a regime-change; freckles are mines; over her fixed-bayonet eyes he`s gaping; undone; stood to attention, as some unnamed stars and the moon stripe the sky, her stare obliterates him.



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This perfect-bound collection shows the author's vast expanse of poetic talent and as with his chap-book and you can purchase a signed copy direct from the poet by clicking here. OR you can buy direct from erbacce-press via the 'Shop' button (top-right)



           Stanley is a(n]


      1)  voluptuous crocodile

      2)  crisp of scabs

      3)  albino lemon

      4)  cockrocker

      5)  historical fact

      6)  fortunate discovery

      7)  can of Hobo soup simmering

      8)  cliff-hanger

      9)  fudge scheme

    10)  park animal

    11)  liposucker

    12)  number not a name

    13)  cold Victorian bedroom on the third floor

    14)  Travel Lodge enthusiast

    15)  stock-in-trade

    16)  lake of petrol burning from the south-east

    17)  committed anarchist




Jeremy Reed; poet and writer, says: 'Paul Hawkins has picked up Tom Raworth's energised quirky verbal speed: his rich, fractured, spatialised language drives in and on. I like it.'




Tony White, novelist, writer and editor, says: 'Oulipian divination meets Metro cut-up. The Crash crash-edited into resistance rhythms, cash-in-hand concrete typography, mapping the run-off and the rackets from Claremont Road to Cameron, then cleaned out with half a brick. What looked like a wall, turns out to be a wall of sound; or a barricade. Tip #366: Hawkins is unstoppable.'