Thanks, Alison.
I find the comparison with Ritsos quite interesting, though, as you say,
it's nothing like him, but maybe it is attempting a similar territory. That
the feeling of fable, estrangement and intimacy comes over is very
re-assuring.
(aside to Peter, I'll write more shortly, but Yes I will look at the
commas!)
Best
Dave
David Bircumshaw
Leicester, England
Home Page
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
www.paintstuff.20m.com/index.htm
http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
----- Original Message -----
From: "Alison Croggon" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, December 20, 2001 9:18 PM
Subject: Re: Pome
> David
>
> This is terrific, a feeling of terrifying fairytale or fable.
> Strangely, because it's nothing like him, it kind of reminds me of
> Ritsos - the feeling of estrangement, perhaps, in its intimacies -
>
> Best
>
> A
>
> >Quite literally just written this, so any comments are welcome
> >
> >Best
> >
> >Dave
> >
> >
> >
> >In those days an angel of tar wept, scalding the mud village
> >And the poet shrank, to the scrub fields, as the square
> >Thronged with the burnt voices of the hurt, pelting shadows,
> >That hid like strangers in caves, or walked alone, with blame.
> >
> >The poet grew thinner, like silicon, punching the desart waste
> >Softly with his head, like a lost love recalled, and as hunger
> >Stood up from his body, like a son leaving home, he thought
> >Of the sex of angels, man-woman both, and in slow fucks
> >
> >And long rhythms, he lay with the sky on both sides of his bed.
> >While the armies he fled from raised their standards in his head.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >David Bircumshaw
> >
> >Leicester, England
> >
> >Home Page
> >
> >A Chide's Alphabet
> >
> >Painting Without Numbers
> >
> >www.paintstuff.20m.com/index.htm
> >
> >http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
>
> --
>
>
> Alison Croggon
>
> Home page
> http://www.users.bigpond.com/acroggon/
> Masthead
> http://au.geocities.com/masthead_2/
>
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