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About Literature / Professional Michael-Israel JarvisMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Walls Remain
The house is almost naked.
These walls—
long hid by bookcases
are now bare
now flushed with sunlight
and empty of warm shadows cast by curtains
(those too are gone)
the walls remain
but not in the same way.  
Little
white
sticker signs
mark all the taps, the doors, the water heater
warning against use
That copper drum was so full of boiling, glaring heat!
now it is cold and drained
they left a rusty stain of water
when they bled it.
It is not the emptiness
that aches
when the van leaves with the last boxes,
nor the nails that jaw the letterbox closed,
nor the keys that no longer fit.
But posters of disbanded bands on bedroom walls
discarded clothes—the books
we did not take,
they hurt.
The house is almost naked
from the outside you can see that
and the lowering sun has made all the white clouds gold
and one lamp in a brother’s bedroom
unlit,
casts its shadow on the sunlit wall.
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 4 0
Mature content
The Hundred Thousand Fingers :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Mature content
In the Ice :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 30 5
Mature content
Profile :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Literature
The Tyranny of Consciousness
I choke on my eyes
blinking
one by
one I
swallow, retch
they will not lie down
they will not lie down
they play drums on the knuckles that twitch
under the skin
of my chest.
.clings around my ribs
and resists
the battering sacks that my lungs become
a volume of silence
a chaos of roaring
a weep of shouts
they will not lie down
they will not lie down
they will not lie down
At last
I swallow my eyes
one
by one
forcing them like needles
through thick wet leather
They are still open in the dark
of my stomach
still roving.
.blinking in the socket of my bowel
and still.
they will not lie down.
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Mature content
All of a Man :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 1 2
Literature
Poetry Live March, 2016 - Cambridge
Here are two sedate witches
shawled in the dignity of dark colours
sober nuns in the order of
the word Written
the word Spoken
the word offered in devotion
Spelled to catch meaning
they raise
their  true image from the ink cauldron
to speak with the dead that once they were
and by voice they force the lungs of memory
to breathe again
These two wise women
sedate
teenagers.
They scry the personal past
but the fleeing fearful young
run forward.
The witches are safe now that we burn children.
later
the fat black woman
slight and quiet and a hundred meters tall
so full of voice
like a jericho whisper at the walls of babylon
she hauls whoops from the uniform rows
sows shaking heads among the lads
a pale crop ripe to blush
at her rap
an offence of baby sounds
without pretence of violence
then
she leaves the stage on the strength of a smile—she will never be colonised.
last
striding toward us
dragging secrets into the stage lights
some kind of wizard
his voice rolls with oceans
and
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Literature
The Saint of St. Lazare
On the escalator in St. Lazare
going down as
we ascend
there is an old man wearing no pants
his pale legs like lolly sticks
descend
from a grubby coat just long enough to hide what
nestles between those withered thighs
he stares straight ahead as he
passes with the diagonal serenity of
a sad line graph
he is chewing even though his mouth is
empty
busted washing machine tongue
hidden under a short
beard like lichen clinging.
He doesn’t seem to care about his missing trousers.
Now he is out of sight as the escalator
nudges me on to walk again
and he is gone
along with the troubling absence he wore
leaving only the dangle of
question? marks
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Literature
the hail
the hail
strikes scattered sheets
across the windscreen
textures the air between the shine
of black street glazed in icewater
and the grey glow gloom;
the heaped storm-heavy preponderance
squatting across the rooftop of sky
as high as all the miles of winter
falling.falling.
yet through the freezing applause
-the hundred drumming curtain calls-
I can see the sides of sky far beyond the shuddering fir trees
past the slick rooftiles ,
the walls of the world are blue with sunshine
from floor to arches
and small white flags
drift
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Mature content
Letters from Hell :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 44 28
Mature content
For the Rest :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 1 2
Literature
Traversing the Shade
FIRST
The aeroplane plummeted.
Dana, forced back in her seat by the g-force, couldn’t even scream. The noise of the TT-Swan’s twin jet engines had become a scream. Dana could see her father’s hand gripping the arm of his seat ahead of her, his knuckles white. She wished she could see his face.
The lights in the small passenger cabin flickered once. Then darkness.
-
In a café, a young man glanced up at the television above the counter. His coffee cooled on the table in front of him. Around him, the chatter of voices quietened. The other customers, like he, now watched the news report. A waitress reached up on tiptoes to turn up the volume.
A male reporter explained the images. A narrow streak of fire cut across a field on the screen, fragments of white-and-blue painted metal decorating a blast zone, broken trees at the edge of a copse showing where the small plane had entered the treeline, bouncing and already broken. There were fires showing in the woods a
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 2 0
Literature
Broken Jungle
I never seed a woman like her. Fuh one thing, she tall. Moves thru the mark with her head up, wrapped in old tatty furs, strapped up with leather and webbing for water bottle, knives. She got a hard face, a bony face. Brown hair like coiled rope. She come my way, where I hunch in the corner by the scrap xchange.
‘Kid.’ She look down with clear eyes. Colour of dust. There’s scarring on her knuckles, a white line crossing the corner of her thin lips. She’s crook-nose too, just a little. Enough to see it once broke. ‘Are you fit, kid? Are you fit and healthy?’
‘Yes’m.’
‘Do you want to earn some barta?’
‘’pends. Fuh what?’
‘A bit of carrying, spotting, gathering. I’m going into the jungle. I need an extra pair of hands.’
I laugh. ‘Nobody goes into the jungle. Nobody witted. It’s dangerous.’
Her eyes wrinkle up, bird feet at the corners, as she smiles. ‘Yeah, it
:iconAutumn-Hills:Autumn-Hills
:iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 6
Mature content
Convocation II - Emme :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 0 0
Mature content
Convocation I - Obrin, Ameryn :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 1 0
Mature content
ReGeneration :iconautumn-hills:Autumn-Hills 8 29

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Autumn-Hills
Michael-Israel Jarvis
Artist | Professional | Literature
United Kingdom
I've been a member of DeviantArt for over eight years. In that time, I more or less grew up and learned to write at the same time. I completed a First Class BA Degree in Creative Writing, with Honours; but it was DeviantArt that fostered my first writing. It was DeviantArt that gave me my first taste of feedback, encouragement; and criticism.

Since University I've independently published three books, two of which were born here, on DeviantArt. You can find Osric Fingerbone and Gravedigger chapters in my Fiction Finder over on the right, in draft form, unedited and unimproved. Meanwhile, I've signed with the Publisher Booktrope, that offer an entirely new model of publishing.

As a result, I'm now working with a professional team to republish my books. I dreamt of this kind of progress over those eight years. I am still dreaming of the successful future I hope I have in writing books, and selling them to people who want to read them. It's that simple for me.

DeviantArt is still here. So will I be. I will always owe this community much.

My books are available still in their indie form, here: www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Israe… (UK link) and here: www.amazon.com/Michael-Israel-… (US Link)

Gravedigger will be republished within the next couple of months.
Interests

Activity


The house is almost naked.

These walls—
long hid by bookcases
are now bare
now flushed with sunlight
and empty of warm shadows cast by curtains
(those too are gone)
the walls remain
but not in the same way.  

Little
white
sticker signs
mark all the taps, the doors, the water heater
warning against use
That copper drum was so full of boiling, glaring heat!
now it is cold and drained
they left a rusty stain of water
when they bled it.

It is not the emptiness
that aches
when the van leaves with the last boxes,
nor the nails that jaw the letterbox closed,
nor the keys that no longer fit.
But posters of disbanded bands on bedroom walls
discarded clothes—the books
we did not take,
they hurt.

The house is almost naked
from the outside you can see that
and the lowering sun has made all the white clouds gold
and one lamp in a brother’s bedroom
unlit,
casts its shadow on the sunlit wall.
Walls Remain
I finished growing up in a house in Great Yarmouth, on the East coast of England. I moved out for University, then got married a year later, but it remained my family home.
On the 23rd of October, my family were finally evicted after a long period of struggle and waiting. On 28th October, we had to get the good furniture and precious things out of the house and into storage. Some friends helped, because I am lucky in that I have very good friends.

It was a hard day.
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Over the edge
they come
falling in reverse
a hundred thousand fingers
come climbing on their own.

Out of the dark beneath
out of a sleeping sea
the hundred thousand fingers
creep,
they come all a-crawl for me.

Up and over the edge
the rim of my batting eye
into the well of my sight
they tumble,
a hundred thousand fingers.

Their wriggle the ring
of my crown
knuckling against the gold
the hundred thousand fingers
so bone, so dry, so cold.
Gravedigger has just been published by Booktrope.

And it's my birthday! Go buy yourself a book to celebrate:

US: www.amazon.com/Gravedigger-Mic…
UK: www.amazon.co.uk/Gravedigger-M…

Or if you're boycotting Amazon (something I cannot afford to do) here is Barnes & Nobles: www.barnesandnoble.com/w/grave…

Much love to DeviantArt people today. This place helped me bring Gravedigger out of the dirt.


---------------------

Get hold of me on here, or email me at m.i.jarvis.author@gmail.com

I'm also on facebook. www.facebook.com/michael.israel.jarvis

And my very own website is here: www.michaelisraeljarvis.com

All the best, power to your art.

camar yo adh

xxx
  • Listening to: In Flames
  • Reading: Mistborn
  • Watching: The Last Leg/The Strain
  • Playing: Pathfinder
  • Eating: Olives
  • Drinking: Badger's First Call

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Comments


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:iconberkleydown:
BerkleyDown Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2016  Student General Artist
Your poetry reminds me of Shane Koyczan's - please take that as a huge compliment.
Reply
:iconautumn-hills:
Autumn-Hills Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2016  Professional Writer
Thank you. I'm not familiar with Koyczan. Will check him out.
Reply
:iconcarryn:
Carryn Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Hey, Michael, what a small world!  I didn't know you were on Deviant.  This is Kandi Wyatt from Booktrope!  I'm not keeping up with Deviant as much just due to life and I seem to be able to keep track of one social media at a time, but I thought I'd drop by and say hi. 
Reply
:iconautumn-hills:
Autumn-Hills Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2015  Professional Writer
Hi! Nice to meet you in this form! Yeah, I have a set of tabs that are always open and I try to run through them methodically, but dA is sadly often last on the list. Twitter is demanding! I'm trying to maintain a basic presence at least on deviantArt, as it was so formative for me.
Reply
:iconcarryn:
Carryn Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I know what you mean. It is where I started drawing from my stories. Then I improved my writing and wrote some back stories in here. I just found a play that I thought I had lost and it was here on DA! I am so excited. I can now download it and have a copy for myself and to put up on my author web-page. Right now I should be editing, but I am so sleepy, I turned here instead. It's probably the first time since April when I comment on your page. :)
Reply
:iconautumn-hills:
Autumn-Hills Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2015  Professional Writer
Crazy lives, eh?
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconchimeradragonfang:
ChimeraDragonfang Featured By Owner Nov 3, 2014
Birthday cake  icon 
Reply
:iconautumn-hills:
Autumn-Hills Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2014  Professional Writer
Thank you! :D
Reply
:iconpaintedwolff:
PaintedWolff Featured By Owner Apr 16, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow I love your writing, it's much more... real, I guess (sorry, I'm bad at describing things)
Especially Skin Deep; you kept me reading, the story was fanastc. My writing's to dark  XD
Reply
:iconautumn-hills:
Autumn-Hills Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2014  Professional Writer
Cool, I'll check yours out when I get a chance!

Thank you very much!
Reply
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