person Ion Corcos, two poems

A nature lover and supporter of animal rights, Ion Corcos has been published in Grey Sparrow Journal, Clear Poetry, Panoply, The High Window and other journals, and is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Currently, he is travelling indefinitely with his partner, Lisa.

Ion’s website is


Walnut Tree

That day, when I listened
to the words you told us, I remember
that I felt odd. Spirit was no more a given;
doubt took over, and I
had to start all over again.
It took years before I had the courage
to stop this rot. I knew that
there was something more, that
I had buried it in my past,
and walked around lost; I knew that
when I heard the words ring
like bells at midnight on Easter Saturday;
I knew that you were not like me,
that you didn’t feel like me;
you thought too much. I fell
in with you, listened to your words
in class. What if I told you that I was a bird,
a calf, a gust of wind? That I
was a glass of water, a table,
or a piece of paper? That what I am doesn’t matter?
That walnuts grow on trees?



A seagull barks on the roof, bends
its snow-cold back like the steep tideline
below. A wing amongst shingle, dead
and lost, a remnant. Calls
for the cull of flocks,
to keep things the way we want them,
to break the sea, the winds
that carry north, to break
the backs of gulls, to seethe
at their stance, the loudness of their screams,
to say that to scavenge
is to steal. And who are we
to say that they steal? Who
are we, to find a fragment of sea,
a lost feather, and not wonder,
not care, if the bird is alive,
if the sea is clean;
to keep wanting to cull, which means,
to kill.

7 thoughts on “person Ion Corcos, two poems

  1. Pingback: 2 – ISACOUSTIC*

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