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from Hallucigenia




occult amongst all 

this seeing is what

unseen will change 


amongst all this seeing

was anything ever seen

by which I mean


could anything be 

meant beyond the moving 

of meaning that means 


somewhere at sometime

to mean beyond 

its movement?


it’s easier and maybe

healthier to be moved

and once moved, keep moving


what can you see?





see out a glove do people see 

do people stop the crying so

a whimsy tea in howling


the crying do not but see

no feel on chair

the weight by spine


that travels there for now 

for now a happening 

beyond a do that brains


a lobe of brain is tiring

and god and shit and 

and heavy slip of trench a tour


or anvil stop until you do

not know nor help

the world until until






is not until but in sickness 

and otherwise the crying still

on now and then


a happening and not

until but still as knowing 

still you move


and moved by still

can be and being fill

with something more              


than words





so much to say 

and so little worth saying

being, by turns

a cynical spiritualist 

and a spiritual cynic

to imagine 

              leaving the world

to enter this –

for what wonder 

still is

as much as struck

still with falling


of what is 


when, with irony,


the impossible is all

that lends such laughable  

inadequacies of word

a purpose, a desire

to be in,

             reverse a purpose

to realise in play

sidle up

bejewelled anew

the walkway 


in such hermit crab arcades

to visit, for instance,

the enigmatic 

Nectocaris, a dapper

squish-link of almost


            or like a Nautilus


from its chambers

to smoke on the veranda

extemporising, silken wit

on the finer points

of evolution – what was missed

or presumed or

presumed missing

unknown, tentacular

chat of ages, caught

mid-speech in shale

to be found, 

             540 million years later,


ambiguity of phylum:

twirled flesh kites


to be in, the poem

chisel / brush

            zoo of 

            all time       

            in print


            the ghosts



in rock, blunt talk

hammering at 


as if ‘all time’ 


kept and is not still

is         of always

around and through

the impossible


again and again

            for the first time

& i never thought        

it could move me        

from gravity’s 

            stern formality 

but it did


& they soared over :



Marella, Yohoia, Olenoides


Opabania, Burgessia, Nectocaris


Odontogriphus, Dinomischus, Amiskwia


Branchiocaris, Perspicaris, Canadaspis


Naraoia, Tegopelte, Asheaia





Sidneyia, Sidneyia, Sidneyia


Molaria, Habelia 







Emeraldella, Leancholia 







& who better to tell our story 

than another worm with legs  ~













David Spittle is a poet, filmmaker, and essayist. His first full collection, All Particles and Waves, was published by Black Herald Press (2020), following the pamphlet B O X (HVTN, 2018). For the last decade, he has been running a series of interviews with poets on film and filmmakers on poetry; it has now been published as a book, Light Glyphs (Broken Sleep, 2020). 


Spittle’s first short film, Light Noise, was funded and broadcast by the BBC – now available to watch on iPlayer. The following year, he was commissioned to make an experimental documentary by the Austrian Cultural Forum on poetry in the pandemic, Where Is Everyone Austria. He has also written three operas and, in 2014, was commissioned by Bergen National Opera to write a song-cycle which has since been performed internationally. Spittle holds a Literature PhD on the poetry of John Ashbery and Surrealism. He continues independent research across Poetry, Film, and Noise.

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