David Ralph Lewis

Taken from Crack Magazine, July 2021.

I've spent a lot of this year consciously learning what was previously unconscious.

Taken from Crack Magazine, August 2021.

Taken from Crack Magazine, July 2021.

Taken from Crack Magazine, July 2021.

Taken from Crack Magazine, May 2021.

Taken from Crack Magazine, July 2021.

It starts with a whisper, muttered half phrases and small slanders shaking leaves, pushing wind chimes into gentle collisions.

Taken from Secret Meeting Issue Nine, May 2021.

Taken from Crack Magazine, May 2021.

There's a certain section of the population who tend to get furious when a tv show or film casts anyone but straight white dudes.

https://youtu.be/yIHC-ZMhmHM Taken from the reviews page of Crack Magazine, May 2021.

Taken from the reviews page of Crack Magazine, May 2021.

This was written in a slow single waltz before the next one This morning I feel like a strange conversation with the discomfort of my head and the contact of your language is a way to make sure This morning is the first time I've been maintaining the water

CW: Very brief allusion to suicidal thoughts The early bird catches the worm from a chain coffee shop, is rude and dismissive to the barista, pecks down the wriggling body and a double espresso before zipping off to a day of meetings and spreadsheets.

In a recent post, Austin Kleon writes about how other writers sort through their work: I am fascinated by the notebook and filing systems of other writers.

This is a series where I interview poets about their process in regards to a single poem.

I enjoyed Cory Doctorow writing about the lessons he has learned over twenty years of blogging.

Taken from an old New Yorker.

you ask me, sitting on the smashed roof tiles and concrete slabs that used to be our home.

This was written in an Apples and Snakes Red Sky Sessions.

Taken from an Independent from the start of this year.

we teach the AI how we scream feed it all our voices alone release all our agony our grief our childhood trauma buried fears our compressed nightmares absorbed into passive microphones

This is a series where I interview poets about their process in regards to a single poem.

Taken from an old New Yorker I used a number of images from unsplash for this one from All Bong, Sean Pollock, Daniel Chen and Matthew Henry.

I spin each morning from dream silk allow soft light to pour in a torrent from my ears out into the aether.

As part of the Red Sky Sessions with Apples and Snakes, we were asked to chose a painting from the MOMA collection.

This is a series where I interview poets about their process in regards to a single poem.

This is a bit late because of Easter.

I'm working front desk at the Hilbert Hotel.

After Kay Ryan She's silent, stiff.

Taken from DIY Magazine.

Taken from a old New Yorker.

Taken from a old New Yorker, no idea which issue.

Taken from a old New Yorker, no idea which issue.

At the end of this month there was a burst of sunshine and the daffodils we buried in November erupted in their pots.

Taken from DIY Magazine October 2020 Disco ball image from Greyson Joralemon on Unsplash.

Some advice I hear repeated often is to write every single day.

Taken from DIY Magazine October 2020

Taken from DIY Magazine October 2020 A new poem of mine was featured on Write Out Loud's social media.

Taken from DIY Magazine October 2020 I've been nominated for the 2021 Forward Prize for Best Single Poem for my poem After by Neon Magazine.

We've done everything we possibly can they proclaim on nightly broadcasts, shaking their fists for emphasis as if describing ineffective ancient magic runes in the air, as globs of engine oil dribble down their chins, distracting from the soft focus, where

This is a series where I interview poets about their process in regards to a single poem.

This January has been more miserable than most, grey and cold with a lockdown over us.

Bristol, you can be quite spectacular sometimes.

Taken from DIY Magazine October 2020 Echoes and edges completely transformed my poem Circulation on their live stream at the weekend.

This a series where I interview poets about their process and writing in reference to a single poem.

I cannot look away from the whorl of galaxies tucked into each curled petal, the supermassive black hole that sits on top of a stamen, dragging all light and time towards it.

Taken from DIY magazine, October 2020.

Winter erases the land with a shaky hand.