Nick Power premieres 'Butterfly Net' from new poetry collection 'Holy Nowhere'
With its stark evocation of small town strangeness and nostalgic coming of age adventures, Power's debut poetry collection 'Small Town Chase’, chronicled growing up in a provincial town in the north of England.
Published by Erbacce Press, the collection achievied critical acclaim from all corners of the media including BBC’s Janice Long. Here we premiere the first of two exclusive poems from follow up 'Holy Nowhere’.
'Holy Nowhere' builds on ‘Small Town Chase’ but in a more sinister way. Nick said: “The work is almost a teenage paean to love and violence. I began writing it just as 'Small Town Chase' was being finished. They overlap a little and are related. But 'Holy Nowhere' is like a less polite Siamese twin, I'd say.
“I’m giving people a sneak preview through Coney’s Loft as a little taster of what people can expect from the book. 'Holy Nowhere’ is a view of a city from a high vantage point over the river. Much of the prose is set at night high up on construction cranes or warehouses and electricity substations.
“A recurring symbol in the book as you'll see on the cover, is the pharmacy crucifix. It crops up in a few of the pieces to represent how the cult of religion and the cult of drugs are essentially the same. A lot of the work concerns heightened emotion about love, death and hopelessness – but in a way a teenager would feel."
Written while his band The Coral are on hiatus, the Hoylake based writer has put his lyrics through what he feels is perhaps a wider, more accommodating frame. He commisoned Coney's Loft to respond to the book with a collage which you can view below the poem.
She’s lying prone on the couch with her feet on my lap, flicking ash
into a polystyrene cup. The TV is on with the sound muted
and the evening sun is paling behind the blinds. She’s switching
absently between radio channels from all over the world. Digital
stations. They come blaring through the speakers with alarming
clarity: A redneck country station. A documentary about Factory
Records. Ronnie O’Sullivan discussing religion. A New York
chamber orchestra interpretation of The Big Sleep. Serbian Kolo
music with those gypsy instruments. The high-pitched fiddle. The
Cimbalom. It seems we’ve struck gold tonight. She navigates
between stations and in turn they keep us connected, keep us fixed
on this omniscient broadcast. I begin to notice sounds from outside;
the swell of the sea as it pushes inland, the charge of electricity in
distant stormclouds. Night birds in high nests waking up. I feel it
in me. A live channel through my bones. And it needs to release
somehow, in some violent flurry, some outpouring of emotion. I
can’t fix an action to it.
It occurs to me that this is how it might have started, the notion of
expression. Just as I feel it right now.
'Response to Holy Nowhere' (2015) by Low Coney. Analogue collage from found imagery