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Cutacre Country Park

A poem by Oliver James Lomax with music by Pete Whitfield, celebrating the regeneration of Cutacre, formerly the biggest coal waste heap in Europe, now a country park and industrial hub. Videography by Jan Koblanksi, edited by Nicole Williamson. Winner at the Los Angeles International Poetry Film festival, 2025. https://oliverjameslomax.com/about/ http://www.realstrings.com https://www.jankoblanski.com https://www.nicolewilliamson.co.uk Cutacre Country Park, by Oliver James Lomax To cut acres of sky from the black of the mine is to rewild the ghost of a mountain, and give Lancashire back a true horizon. Returned from this prototype of absence, a gradient forged in dialect, the sheer bloody-mindedness of it that musters silhouettes in the mind, of pit ponies hoodwinked in time, the dream of a city held in the corner of their eye. Now the habitat of oystercatchers, redshanks, lapwings rethatching the threadbare hour, busy in the remains, where all our yesterdays can die and be born again. As we grapple with the past let it colour us like a field of lilacs in a black and white photograph, the meadowsweet and ragged robin reclaiming time, the eye of a water vole black as the mine. A mist comes to settle in this place, haunts the spoils exact shape, folklore of the last miner roams the slag heaps above all the Little Hultons of our sleep, his silence speaks through natures sustain as he comes down from the mountain on fire after the rain, where the red seams bleed into green counterfeit hills, the blossom clings to itself in the still, as he steps through the threshold of time, hobnails spark on boulevards, amongst the arms of modern industries fast as a skylark needling the thick winds, and sings to the peace of a kestrel hung cruciform high above Logistics North where everything is lost and yet reborn. The castle of Amazon stands on a fortress of caged rocks, how do we measure the cost of ages? In these walking boots a weeks wages.