Bob,
Thanks. You have put some thought into this.
Colin
----- Original Message -----
From: "Bob Cooper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, February 22, 2003 4:58 PM
Subject: Re: newsub/market
> Hi Colin,
> H'm - not quite Sainsbury's... It's a far more interesting place you're
> describing here!
> So, here's an interesting question... Where do you want the reader of the
> poem to be? Sat at home, somewhere else in the world, being told about
it -
> or in the market (maybe silently seeing what you're seeing) but with you,
> savouring the sounds, sights, smells as they happen?
> If the reader's there then phrases like "you could imagine" can go - but
> explanations like:
> "Buying it is just the beginning.
> Then you must kill it and pluck it and gut it.
> Back home when you buy it,
> the work is half done."
> can still be included because the reader is a stranger to the scene and
> needs the explanation. I feel it might be worth considering involving the
> reader a bit more. Know what I mean?
> And:
> "I am distracted" could be "I'm distracted"
> Bob
>
>
>
>
>
>
> >From: Colin dewar <[log in to unmask]>
> >Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
> >Subject: newsub/market
> >Date: Mon, 17 Feb 2003 18:49:29 -0000
> >
> >Market Place, Wuhan.
> >
> >I have only come for some new potatoes,
> >though any excuse will do
> >to stroll through the market,
> >with its tapestry of flesh and earthy veg-
> >stalls selling any food you could imagine,
> >dog meat for instance or woodland fungi,
> >all of it unprocessed.
> >You get your hands dirty
> >if you want chicken.
> >Buying it is just the beginning.
> >Then you must kill it and pluck it and gut it.
> >Back home when you buy it,
> >the work is half done.
> >
> >I walk slowly,
> >careful where I place my feet,
> >watch vendors hot-faced, yelling
> >as if they must be paid in blood.
> >They have worked long in all weather,
> >their skin purple-brown.
> >I don't want to worry them
> >when I come to haggle for half an hour.
> >
> >I linger by fish
> >that I don't know by name,
> >guess at where they lived,
> >if sediment or surface
> >from shapes of mouth and fin.
> >However they lived all
> >will be eaten.
> >For now they survive in basins,
> >less water than fish.
> >
> >I bought one once, a toothless type
> >with a head like a rock,
> >almost broke my hand knocking it out,
> >was told
> >it would have died out of water.
> >I recognise eels.
> >Their heads are impaled on nails
> >and their bodies stripped clean.
> >
> >Fifteen frogs flop together
> >in a net bag, used for oranges at home,
> >gather dust on sweating skin.
> >Someone buys a bag and uses his shoe as a club
> >to beat them to death.
> >A pig squeals from a corner
> >that I don't go into.
> >Then a rat drops when a box is moved,
> >and dodges among the tomatoes.
> >
> >I am distracted by a fight in the vegetables.
> >Half an hour of bickering over prices
> >has led to a fracas,
> >a couple of women with such abuse
> >I don't have to know their speech.
> >A ragged leek whips the offending cheek
> >and then potatoes are thrown in turn,
> >the ones I had wanted to buy.
> >I will shop here for another half year,
> >go home to my own barbarities.
> >
> >Wuhan. P.R.C. 91/92
> >_________________________________________________
>
>
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