Kim Lasky

Kim Lasky grew up in Essex and now lives on the coast in Sussex. She has a Creative Writing doctorate from the University of Sussex, where she spent time as Writer in Residence in the Physics and Astronomy department, and led an innovative project using poetry to help engineers learn a set of equations. She enjoys collaboration and has worked with scientists, artists and filmmakers.

Kim’s poems have been published in journals in the UK and US and have featured in Resurgence Magazine and as the Guardian’s Poem of the Week. She received an Arts Council Award in 2009. Her work has been recognised in competitions including The Frogmore Poetry Prize, Hippocrates Awards, The Bridport Prize, The Templar Pamphlet and Collection Awards, and in 2011 won the Agenda Poetry competition. Her first short collection What it Means to Fall was published by Tall Lighthouse Press.

Kim has been commended in the Hippocrates Prize (NHS category) 2013. Her sequence Eclipse will be published by Templar as an Iota Shot pamphlet in 2013.  

She was a winner in the 2012 Book & Pamphlet Competition, judged by Simon Armitage.


Reviews

'Kim Lasky’s collection combines a conversational tone with passages of linguistic intensity to take on the big subjects: light, love, life. Her domestic settings and the characters which populate them are particularly satisfying. I also enjoy the way the poems dabble or flirt with form and technique – couplets, half rhyme, the sonnet – before ultimately spinning on their heel and waltzing off in another direction. The poems asked me to accompany them and I went willingly.'  – Simon Armitage 


'A collection where the poems really talk to each other, it evokes, in precise and gorgeous language, a vivid cast of characters and the currents which pass through and between them – electricity, communication, love.' — Michael Marks Poetry Award judges


'Stunning imagery shows this skilful poet’s integrative power. There isn’t a weak poem in the entire collection.'  — Peter Jarvis, (Sphinx)

 

NOW SHE HAS LOST THE WORDS TO HER THOUGHTS

I bed down in the upstairs room arranging
normality. A paperback two-thirds read,
a travel-alarm opened from its case like a clam,
perfume bottled in blue cathedral glass
that refracts light from the window
in the hour after lunch when she sleeps
nourished by whole minutes without fear
while I shut impatience tight behind the door,
lie noticing how stained glass fades
from dark ocean to rock-pool― uselessly
practising the poem of it: petrol, cyan, electric.

— Petrol, Cyan, Electric (2013)

Titles by this author

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