David Wilson lives in North Yorkshire and has for much of his life been an active climber and hill-walker in the UK, Alps and further afield, at a standard best described as erratic. Slope, his debut collection, celebrates what makes mountaineering a compulsion, while exploring parallel themes of risk, loss and motivation. With its emphasis on line, balance and space, David feels poetry is a form well-suited to climbing. He has also written a novel, praised by The Times as a ‘tour de force’.
Once it was Chomolungma,
Mother Goddess of the Earth,
a face whose veil rarely lifted,
its whiteness the White Whale’s.
Now it’s like Elvis near the end,
a giant in a soiled jumpsuit,
blank, useful for percentages,
a sheet from which the music’s fled.
From Slope (Smith/Doorstep, 2016)