I’m really pleased to say that you can now pre-order a signed copy of the first of the first editions of my new collection, ‘Papaya Fantasia’.
Produced as a beautiful ‘Deluxe’ edition, the book is released by The Hedgehog Poetry Press on the 15th of November 2018, but pre-orders should be available in early October.
The collection costs £10 delivered in the UK
The official London launch of ‘Papaya Fantasia’ will see David reading along with ‘stablemates’, Raine Geoghegan and Sue Burge as they jointly launch their new Hedgehog Poetry Press collections.
The event will be held at the Poetry Society’s poetry Cafe in Covent Garden, and is Free to enter
- Date: 17th December 2018
- Time: 7.30pm
- Admission: Free
The Poetry Society
22 Betterton Street
London WC2H 9BX
Direct tel: 020 7420 9887
Cafe line: 020 7420 9888
Main line: 020 7420 9880
David Mark Williams will be launching his new poetry collection, the prize winning Papaya Fantasia, from Hedgehog Press.
Saturday 1st December 2pm Gordon Memorial Hall, St Ninians, Whitepark Road Castle Douglas, DG7 1EX (Doors open 1.45pm)
Admission: FREE Refreshments provided
as if papaya could move
as if papaya could sing
Papaya will show you how,
how to dance sitting down,
singing like a vendor swaying up the street.
Eat light and become papaya,
roll glutted with sunshine,
curved for the slow dance in a terracotta glow.
Make a fiery entrance, burst through paper wall,
a drum roll here we are,
a bright brass interruption, centre stage silhouette.
Spit bitter black seeds, strike out and swing,
fling firecrackers down, snapping demons at your feet.
Papaya will show you how
how to dance with nothing at all
but slow smooth curves, voluptuous ease,
easy as a breeze, honey light of dawn,
juice of morning to fill you up.
So shake each minute bright as carnival
preen and shimmy and slide,
down to the dregs of your cup,
down to the last drop of all you’ve got
papaya will show you how.
Think of it as a house
she told me at the beginning.
To go there, I have to close my eyes.
We build it week by week.
I have to do this on my own.
She cannot go with me.
Some of the windows are lit,
but most of the house is in darkness.
There is a high fence to climb over,
warning signs to ignore. Once inside,
I feel my way blind along the corridors
and try the handle of every door.
It is not my father’s house
but he is there with his anger
set off again. I saw him once through glass
but he could not touch me.
Sometimes my brother comes around.
I follow in the glow of all he knows.
He carries a bag fat with memories.
Was it your brother gave you these?
Perhaps I should speak to him.
The hour we keep is all we have together.
I bring her what I have found,
fixed in words on sheets of paper
scattered over the table between us.
What is memory and what is a dream
we cannot know for sure.
Be wary of dreams, she says.
They don’t lie but they are not the truth.
Remember, what is unreal
cannot be undone. I nod my head
to show I’ve understood.