Dear Ian,

The Clere Parsons chapbook from Coracle is a most calming light egg
yolk colour. There is a biographical note by Trevor Winkfield titled
"Joy's Cartographer," a quote from a Parsons' poem which also
describes the poet.

Here is an excerpt:

"Parsons began life in 1908, one of three sons of an Indian civil
servant, attending St. Paul's School and then Christ Church, Oxford
where his contemporaries were W.H. Auden, Louis MacNeice, Edouard
Roditi, Stephen Spender and the equally overlooked Bernard Spencer.
But it was by no means a group. Their paths crossed, but rarely
coincided. Parsons, so far as we can tell, led a secluded life
centred on his fiancee Sonia Hambourg (who ended up as a nun in a
Russian nunnery outside Paris). So far as I know, no photograph of
him has survived, but Grigson describes his Oxford contemporary as
"tall, very thin, pallid, fair-haired, a trifle spotty, and aloof."
Whcih sounds an awful lot like every other student. A devotee of
Donne, and later E.E. Cummings, he began to publish a few coiled and
dazzling poems in such journals as The Oxford Outlook, Oxford Poetry
and the more progressive Sir Galahad. A book review here and an
editorial there rounded off his nascent literary activities. After
taking a First in History in 1931, Parsons moved to London where he
applied for a position at the British Library, but was turned down on
health grounds (he was a chronic diabetic). Returning to Oxford for
an interview at the Bodleian Library, he caught a chill. The chill
turned to penumonia. In hospital, nobody relaized he was a diabetic
needing insulin. He fell into a coma and died a preventable death.
He was twenty-three."

You can probably see why I wondered if Parsons was real. Does anyone
know Trevor Winkfield?

Coracle Press is definitely real.

--The day reels to its feet like a drunk man
Stumbling over the edges of the world.

("The Winter Sunlight Splashes with Pale Gold")

There are threads going on on other lists about litarary narcissism.
It makes me think there may be virtues in being overlooked.
Especially if one feels unable to contest, or joust at the lists. The
tension between private and public in poetry is certainly very
peculiar. Poets not generally being socially dazzling, one would
think poetry circles sufficiently low-key to bumble along in. Not
always so though. If I were speaking autobiographically, I would
probably say a poetry circle of one is all I have been able to
sustain. But I'm not, of course.

I hope you do write something about the festival. I'm very interested
in the work you're doing with voice. I noticed quite a lot of this at
Cork too, and wonder is it a coming thing: just the human voice and,
as you say, the performed act of reading. From an actual book in the
hand. Very moving I must say.

Mairead

On 9/11/05, ian davidson <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Many thanks for the list below. They are all writers I don't know. They're
> the kind I like best as it suggests endless possibility. Presumably the
> books are available from Coracle?
>
> I'll try to write something on the European festival if possible. It's
> mostly music but guess that many playing there will come out of a European
> Surrealist/Dada background (Faust, henry Cow, etc) via a commitment to
> collectivism and be committed to cross overs between art forms (hence the
> stunt cyclists). Zoe will be doing a short set of her 'city poems' with
> musical additions, and some musicians are also threatening to join in our
> set, which also features films that we have made. As well as reading with
> Zoe I'm going to do a short set on my own using just the human voice (my
> own) and 'reading' from a book of my own poetry. The cutting edge of
> experimentation.
>
> I've got the new CD from Ectogram (one of the bands playing there) released
> by Ankst records (www.ankst.net) on my player now. Ethereal vocals mixed
> deep into very dense layers of sound. Completely absorbing.
>
> Can you quote some of the Parsons?
>
> ian
>
> I'm also reading Clere Parsons' EIGHT POEMS. His "The Winter Sunlight
> Splashes With Pale Gold" makes me feel like I've discovered a fellow
> spirit.
> I just hope he's real. Dead I can take. Just let him be real.
>
> Also I BUILD MY TIME (gorgeous red book, very respectable looking,
> mellow fat pages): "a collage built on texts by Kurt Schwitters").
> Well I can't tell you how much I like this. Except to say I'm
> toppling off my chair just flicking through it.
>
> I am the bak,
> I chissel lak,
> I griffel taaler,
> I am the Maaler.
>
> You are the feudinn,
> You chissel tinn,
> You griffel turkey
> You are the purkey.
>
> I also have Anna Moeglin-Decroix's LITTLE BOOKS & OTHER LITTLE
> PUBLICATIONS (short essay), Tim Robinson's OLWEN FOUÉRÉ IN 'THE BULL'S
> WALL' (a long time ago, around the time I interviewed Joan
> Armatrading, Olwen Fouére was in a play of mine at the Project Arts
> Centre in Dublin, she's a performer hard to describe as I now discover
> trying to describe her: molten, smoky, incandescent, unique, rigorous,
> courageously self-disciplined -- Tim Robinson says "An actress known
> for the mysterious gift of
> presence") Robinson's film, which I haven't seen, derived from an
> invitation "to provide a text for a performance by Olwen Fouére on
> some theme to do with Artaud's visit to the Aran Islands."
>
> I also have FIVE POEMS by Hamish MacLaren, which has thick sturdy
> pages almost like board.
>
> All these books are from Coracle Press, Simon Cutts' and Erika Van
> Horn's amazing enterprise based in Ballybeg, Co. Tipperary. I got
> them in return for some books of mine Simon sold at the SoundEye/Vinyl
> Festivals in Cork:
> yet another glorious offshoot of that glorious week.
>