Just to clear up some possible confusion ...
I presume Erminia is referring to the post on BritPo (predating the
Authorial Intervention thread):
From: <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, February 04, 2002 6:05 PM
Subject: Views of Geoffrey
... which contains the following sentence ...
"Following last weeks article by Robert Potts (Guardian), on the Eliot
prize, this week has three letters from three mainstream luminaries."
The three in question referred to would seem to be Sarah Maguire, Jamie
Mckendrick and Peter Forbes.
For the luminaries in question in their own words (Poetry wars: Writers
respond to Robert Potts's attack on the T S Eliot prize), see:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/Archive/Article/0,4273,4347621,00.html
Robin
We have eaten garlic everychone:
I know when I to hell shall gone,
I know I shall not go alone.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Erminia Passannanti" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, May 04, 2002 8:20 PM
Subject: Re: Authorial Intervention
I have read on Brit-poets calling a bunch of three populist rampantist
English 'poets' being defined as 'luninaries'...'Luninaries??????' (of
what?)
I hope - for the sake of English Literature's - that it was a joke!
It must have been a joke!
I am praying Saint Sebastian the Arrowed and Saint Lucy, the blinded, that
in fact it was a fulish joke...
God, save the sign-systems and, with them, natioanl idioms...natioanl
poetry....Oh, we haev mistaken teh all lot!
Erminia (here is a fulish poem).....
'Text'
I have written it
like a sailor inspects his net
I have written
this visual poem with my nails
- unreliable pattern out of a land
of salty summers
detached from reality
and conceded
to an imaginary colours.
The rest is what appeared
to be the intricate nucleus the shell
left on the sand bone
which hurts tender feet soles.
Above the sun. In front of me the plain
awareness of the breeze.
Deceit of the senses and yet familiar
beyond the barrier of the pine-trees
like the sea for the sea pebbles.
4.5.2002
'Testo'
L'ho scritto
come un marinaio che scruti la sua rete
l'ho scritto con le unghie
questo testo visivo
inaffidabile schema fuori da una terra
d'estati salmastre
distaccato dalla realtà
e concesso
a tinte immaginarie.
Il resto è ciò che appare
essere l' intricato nucleo, la conchiglia
lasciata sulla sabbia, scheggia
che ferisce i teneri plantari.
In alto il sole. Dinanzi a me la piana
consapevolezza della brezza.
Inganno dei sensi eppure familiare
oltre la barriera della pini
come ai sassi il mare.
4.5.2002
|