How precarious this shit is
I mean: the door swings closed and
it's that way
the car park / you could
wear the weather. Hanging like
a tailors shop window
That's some sort of edifice
Keep your fingers crossed and
overcoats: they 'swish'
as what I say forms stalactites
up there / Before the carriage moves
How slow the inspectors are /
And if you want reassurance - time
has stopped...
Keep replaying each moment and then
Goodbye. I will see you tomorrow.
Monday, 9 November 2009
Sunday, 8 November 2009
The Hard Shoulder.
more of this stuff.
The pigs tail is twisty /
We came through bad weather
Saddled him up but
don't try and uncork the wine bottle with it
- let's toast with Vimto
We'll be at Chorlton St. station----------
yet that bible
that shrugging rhetorician
elevated to fetish item on the basis of
something which supposedly happened
once / in these streets
there are great temptations
So my Mother + Step-Father pack me off
/ and I can only navigate by a
spiral Milky Way / As we reunite
in the Argos queue.
The pigs tail is twisty /
We came through bad weather
Saddled him up but
don't try and uncork the wine bottle with it
- let's toast with Vimto
We'll be at Chorlton St. station----------
yet that bible
that shrugging rhetorician
elevated to fetish item on the basis of
something which supposedly happened
once / in these streets
there are great temptations
So my Mother + Step-Father pack me off
/ and I can only navigate by a
spiral Milky Way / As we reunite
in the Argos queue.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
The Hard Shoulder.
Pile In-Trays high +
at this exact time every day
that stare (which has no boundaries) rests
under the shadow of the Beetham Tower
in every direction
Store display: patent medicine
So...Ah - cough, cough, cough
In high winds / wobble
the window squints
sideways (and)
Matthews atrium gaze will
speculate on garnish
(at least through-
It's just a big empty hole
/ a collar + tie. Finally
please turn out the light.
at this exact time every day
that stare (which has no boundaries) rests
under the shadow of the Beetham Tower
in every direction
Store display: patent medicine
So...Ah - cough, cough, cough
In high winds / wobble
the window squints
sideways (and)
Matthews atrium gaze will
speculate on garnish
(at least through-
It's just a big empty hole
/ a collar + tie. Finally
please turn out the light.
Monday, 2 November 2009
The Hard Shoulder.
There is astrology though
unreliable / amongst the Debenhams
reduced rail
Every night + for ages
(Sometimes) But you suit purple
Dear Store Manager
That word 'glamorous' recurs
often. More than you'd think
The wind today is blowy
+ 1000 feet hit
(I guess) lets go!
chase yr. bus ticket then
+ with reference number----------
The feet hit those town gardens
Can I have a quid please for chips?
I am a Leo.
unreliable / amongst the Debenhams
reduced rail
Every night + for ages
(Sometimes) But you suit purple
Dear Store Manager
That word 'glamorous' recurs
often. More than you'd think
The wind today is blowy
+ 1000 feet hit
(I guess) lets go!
chase yr. bus ticket then
+ with reference number----------
The feet hit those town gardens
Can I have a quid please for chips?
I am a Leo.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
more The Hard Shoulder.
Distract us! Please
This week is over
whir + hum. Clatter
and the neon - it doesn't blink
not here
Yet ((( while you queue I
read Baudelaire.
Looking crisp and white
Catheterized - erm - e - eh
Just what are you trying to say?!
we are here now,
/// while echoes out
(((the sound of))) revolutionary shot.
Please----------but
your eyes.
Your eyes, they look so empty.
This week is over
whir + hum. Clatter
and the neon - it doesn't blink
not here
Yet ((( while you queue I
read Baudelaire.
Looking crisp and white
Catheterized - erm - e - eh
Just what are you trying to say?!
we are here now,
/// while echoes out
(((the sound of))) revolutionary shot.
Please----------but
your eyes.
Your eyes, they look so empty.
mon, sat + sun.
went to the band on the wall, monday just gone. saw a group called the unthanks.
prior to the gig i hadnt actually heard any of their stuff; had just read quite a lot about them. was curious. so the gig offered an oportunity to decide if what id read (that theyre brilliant) was true and, also, to visit the newly reopened band on the wall.
well, yeah, i thought they were amazing.
the band on the wall? structurally still the same. just the old entrance door bricked up, a bar at the back where the old cloak-room used to be and some chrome and glass bar built onto the right of the venue.
there were about 10 people playing in the band. and i guess the music they make would best be described as folk: myths and legends, the countryside; lots of 'where i do dwell' - that kind of thing.
got me to thinking of folk musicians as kind of oral historians: transmitting stories down through the generations - and i liked that idea.
yeah, they were a defiantly untrendy band. at a couple of points during the gig the two sisters changed into clogs in front of the audience and started clog-dancing. was initially quite a startling (and funny) sight, but i very quickly found it a really cool one: they just seemed to be doing it for the joy of doing it and it seemed as though they couldn't really care less what they looked like.
was impressed enough to buy the album - not the most recent one. i got the bairns, instead.
and i'll probably go and see them again when theyre in bury later on in the year.
on the subject of myths and legends and tales of the countryside (and in a connection that is in no way tenuous)...
...yesterday went to see the fantastic mr fox. went because ive been sort of following wes andersons career from the start (havent seen bottle rocket and thought the darjeeling limited was shite). loved the film. thought it was funny and incredibly charming.
the characterisation was convincing and i, for one, found the story pretty engaging (at least much more so than two other films ive seen recently: the fucking dreadful funny people and the equally dreadful fishtank).
yeah, loved it.
today has been the other room at oxjam.
james davies. tony trehy and stuart calton.
have heard each of those read before.
the format, today, was different to usual other rooms: the readers only read once and they only had about quarter of an hour each.
the poems davies read were made up of unexpected juxtaposition and both high and low brow references. there was a lot of humour in his work.
he seemed to be all about negotiating a pathway through the modern world.
trehys reading.
other than a brief extract from 50 heads his reading came from his yet to be published new work concerning itself with, as he told us, space (unfortunately i can't remember the title of the book, but that info is bound to be available on trehys blog. go and have a look).
his language was that of the scientist and specialist. was serious and intense, but...i loved it.
the last piece he read was about how death can effect perceptions of space. was very good; that, due to both how moving and - i guess - philosophical it was: contained some pretty deep ideas...ones which had certainly never occurred to me, anyway.
last up was calton.
now, i love that blokes work. heard him at, i think, t o r 3. hadn't previously known anything about him, but was knocked out by him that night.
was great again this afternoon.
he read a long section from his soon to be published three reveries and part of his section from the other room anthology.
caltons main concern is addressing the inequities of the economic basis of society.
he is energetic, passionate and committed.
great.
i'm looking forward, very much, to the new book.
prior to the gig i hadnt actually heard any of their stuff; had just read quite a lot about them. was curious. so the gig offered an oportunity to decide if what id read (that theyre brilliant) was true and, also, to visit the newly reopened band on the wall.
well, yeah, i thought they were amazing.
the band on the wall? structurally still the same. just the old entrance door bricked up, a bar at the back where the old cloak-room used to be and some chrome and glass bar built onto the right of the venue.
there were about 10 people playing in the band. and i guess the music they make would best be described as folk: myths and legends, the countryside; lots of 'where i do dwell' - that kind of thing.
got me to thinking of folk musicians as kind of oral historians: transmitting stories down through the generations - and i liked that idea.
yeah, they were a defiantly untrendy band. at a couple of points during the gig the two sisters changed into clogs in front of the audience and started clog-dancing. was initially quite a startling (and funny) sight, but i very quickly found it a really cool one: they just seemed to be doing it for the joy of doing it and it seemed as though they couldn't really care less what they looked like.
was impressed enough to buy the album - not the most recent one. i got the bairns, instead.
and i'll probably go and see them again when theyre in bury later on in the year.
on the subject of myths and legends and tales of the countryside (and in a connection that is in no way tenuous)...
...yesterday went to see the fantastic mr fox. went because ive been sort of following wes andersons career from the start (havent seen bottle rocket and thought the darjeeling limited was shite). loved the film. thought it was funny and incredibly charming.
the characterisation was convincing and i, for one, found the story pretty engaging (at least much more so than two other films ive seen recently: the fucking dreadful funny people and the equally dreadful fishtank).
yeah, loved it.
today has been the other room at oxjam.
james davies. tony trehy and stuart calton.
have heard each of those read before.
the format, today, was different to usual other rooms: the readers only read once and they only had about quarter of an hour each.
the poems davies read were made up of unexpected juxtaposition and both high and low brow references. there was a lot of humour in his work.
he seemed to be all about negotiating a pathway through the modern world.
trehys reading.
other than a brief extract from 50 heads his reading came from his yet to be published new work concerning itself with, as he told us, space (unfortunately i can't remember the title of the book, but that info is bound to be available on trehys blog. go and have a look).
his language was that of the scientist and specialist. was serious and intense, but...i loved it.
the last piece he read was about how death can effect perceptions of space. was very good; that, due to both how moving and - i guess - philosophical it was: contained some pretty deep ideas...ones which had certainly never occurred to me, anyway.
last up was calton.
now, i love that blokes work. heard him at, i think, t o r 3. hadn't previously known anything about him, but was knocked out by him that night.
was great again this afternoon.
he read a long section from his soon to be published three reveries and part of his section from the other room anthology.
caltons main concern is addressing the inequities of the economic basis of society.
he is energetic, passionate and committed.
great.
i'm looking forward, very much, to the new book.
Saturday, 17 October 2009
The Hard Shoulder //4.
Listen to that house – snap!
The front door, facing
springs open. It’s laughing at me.
Yet that was a – er – proper medical condition
and everything
no retrospective attempt to ------- o
fuck it. I think TV is good.
Turn my phone’s volume down, don’t -------
but captors bring back pizzas from Dominoes
/ all nervy, the outline, unsteady
And how often, now, the interruptions come!
As the gentle breeze rippling the brook somewhere
in some flowery meadow
looked upon by small eyes.
I am not a churl. We can go swimming if you like
or we could go and get something to eat.
The front door, facing
springs open. It’s laughing at me.
Yet that was a – er – proper medical condition
and everything
no retrospective attempt to ------- o
fuck it. I think TV is good.
Turn my phone’s volume down, don’t -------
but captors bring back pizzas from Dominoes
/ all nervy, the outline, unsteady
And how often, now, the interruptions come!
As the gentle breeze rippling the brook somewhere
in some flowery meadow
looked upon by small eyes.
I am not a churl. We can go swimming if you like
or we could go and get something to eat.
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