Oh egad and I had just been listening to Ruth Padel on her website reading a
couple of her poems. I said out loud, "Birk blew her outa the water in one
line of his snap." Now, several hours later, I thought it reasonable to say
it out loud to you. Because it's true. Believe me, dear David, if I could
attract a Faustian bargain for True Poetry like yours, I'd quickly manage my
wrestled soul for the joy of seeing my words----just seeing the
words----and kneeling at poetry's miracle, bargain-bartered or nae.
A fruitful, brilliant bit o work, Birk.
joodles
2009/5/20 David Bircumshaw <[log in to unmask]>
> Hexagram 23
>
> The bed collapsed last night. Underneath sleep. When I unrolled the
> morning I found a spliver, that’s a hair-crack, reaching out like a twig
> from a retaining screw, that had spread, nightly as I slept, throughout the
> frame. Of pine, pine wood.
> I retain the original split, a splinter, no more than an inch and a half by
> a quarter, and pages two hundred and nine to two hundred and twelve of a
> book by Terry Pratchett, concerning the Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, which I
> discovered at my feet where the bed had been. Unsupported by which – bed
> or
> prophecies – O cosmos, I rest.
>
> David Bircumshaw
> "Nothing can be done in the face
> of ordinary unhappiness" - PP
> Website and A Chide's Alphabet
> http://www.staplednapkin.org.uk
> The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
> Leicester Poetry Society: http://www.poetryleicester.co.uk
>
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