At Briggflatts Meetinghouse
Boasts time mocks cumber Rome. Wren
set up his own monument.
Others watch fells dwindle, think
the sun’s fires sink.
Stones indeed sift to sand, oak
blends with saint’s bones.
Yet for a little longer here
stone and oak shelter
silence while we ask nothing
but silence. Look how clouds dance
under the wind’s wing, and leaves
delight in transience.
— Basil Bunting! The most important part of Briggflatts is actually that you have to listen to Bunting reading it. The first time I heard it, it blew my mind. The audio can be found here at the Poetry Archive and I insist that you listen. My friend was awarded his Ph.d yesterday so today’s poem is in honour of Northern poets, Basil Bunting, good friends and milestones of all kinds.
November 12, 2013
I have a review in the latest edition of New Walk magazine, which is a lovely magazine! They have good poetry in it. My review is of Glyn Maxwell’s Pluto, and I allege that it is a brilliant new direction for Maxwell’s poetry, and one I am excited about. I mean, what do I know about anything, being just a young whippersnapper. Still I felt that was the case. Feeling is the same as knowing quite a lot of the time, I think, with writing. BASICALLY I LIKED PLUTO.
But do, do buy the magazine mostly for the actual poetry. You can find out more here:
November 11, 2013
There just isn’t a worst sort of book review than this. It is a very poor quality of review. When this review arrived it was useless. It is impossible to tell what sort of book this review was about. I threw this review away without reading it. One star.
November 9, 2013
"But you were young, and you had
Plenty of time:
You slept on the train and did not smile.
Under you the plains widened, turned silver.
You slept with your mouth open.
You were nothing,
You were snow falling through the ribs
Of the dead.
You were all I had."
— Larry Levis (via thesemightysecrets)