Hello David,
I don't know what is going on anymore. All this business with fancytalk,
balderdash and weasel words --we are back to woodlice here. I remember that
it all started because Peter was upset about a review, and said he didn't
like it because it was moneyed --then Keston defended the review and
questioned this notion of moneyed, I wrote several things, which as per
usual are all too conveniently ignored. Harold wrote something too --Keston
thought that Campo and LangPo (the Gilbert & Sullivan characters) were
different. I wrote a satire on that. Polishing poetry. I don't know --it is
a bit like the British and food --if it doesn't move, pour gravy on it. Here
it is stones. Stones and geology. Ah the hairline contusions in rocks and
stones. I
did not think much about both quotes --they seemed to be in the bauble
school of writing --the baroques. And David you asked if I was upping the
ante. Of course --but they are running scared. I think the review was in all
probability better than the samples of poetry I have seen, but perhaps I am
in the minority here. Below its just a bunch of guys playing with their
rocks --like Edith Sitwell and Amy Lowell.
The first few lines of Prynne's 'Red D Gypsum':
Now trek inter-plate reversion to earth buy out
as waters buried or get carrier up ready put
across gypsum branch effaced, as root planed...
The first few lines of Coolidge's 'The Tab':
mica flask moves layout hasty
bunkum geode olive loin candle
mines repeating sky hot dregs, in cast...
Or the beginning of McCaffery's 'Little Hans':
Each sockeye of adulterous claim
The prawns which is, which cannot be
In I, like others, surds the name
Enamel sedge antinomy.
and now a stone poem
"Stones"
you get me
s s s so
and I am charmed
by you
s s s so
all you do
is
nothing
not quite because
even
at rest you
move
and I know
s s s so
there are forces
that
draw me
to you
you get me
to write
about you
little
bits of rock
and
under you
there
is meaning
like
blennies in
a rock pool
flipping silver
or
the splash
of
morality
from
pebbles dropped
by
the crow
down
a long necked
ewer
you get me
s s s so.
Stephen Pain this afternoon
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