Glenn Hubbard lives in Madrid, where he teaches an English which is often rather ugly. Perhaps for this reason he started writing poetry.
He has had work published in a large number of online and paper journals. One of his poems was submitted for the Forward Prize
in 2019 and this year he won the Bangor Literary Journal’s FORTY WORDS competition with his poem Thirlage. He can occasionally
become a little obsessive about a poem but this is amply compensated for the marvelous experience of losing all sense of time while
he writes. His poetry owes a great deal to that of the late R.F. Langley.
Crying, he walks along the A47, in his arms a dead swan. Her head lolls at the end of her long neck, swinging to the rhythm of his steps. He stops to lift it again, sighing audibly when it slides down her back to fall once more, resigning himself to the shocking indecency of her final journey, hoping to earn her forgiveness, later, trying to imagine how the composition of Dead Swan On Deal Table will allow him to restore her dignity beside an assortment of fresh fruit and veg in season.
Bald’s Leechbook, a book of medical remedies, dates from the early 11th century. A colophon at the end of the second books suggests that a certain Bald ordered a certain Cild to compile the text. The story of Cild’s reaction to being thus tasked is entirely my own invention.