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Index: Poetry & Fiction

Episode 38 of ‘Living Dead’ and two more poems.

By SIMON COLLINGS. . Episode 38: Living dead ‘I’M A NOBODY’ Bill says to Frank. ‘What have I accomplished? Precisely nothing. When I’m dead, I’ll disappear without trace.’ ‘Two caramel lattes,’ Frank says to the barista. ‘When I was a kid,’ Bill continues, ‘I used to think I’d be somebody one day, someone people would […]

‘An Edge of the World’ with ‘Naranja Amarga’.

Two Poems. By NIGEL WHEALE. A WAVE AND a wave upon wave, and a cloud. That tranquil brilliancy of the ocean’s skin. The bay fluoresces like a laminate dance floor Darkened below by forests of kelp. Above that, the tullimentan sky. In cold frost, Venus pierces down Out of darkening blue. A tawn sphere casts […]

Garden Eclogue 10:

John Kinsella: ‘All terms
adapt to the sway of flowers setting fruit,
seeds forming. All that restlessness of triumvirates
and leaders edging towards apotheosis.’

‘Kino Atlantyk’.

Maria Jastrzębska: ‘That summer, bunting from Bert’s Homestore in Brighton fluttered like flags of red polka dots and blue flowers on Hania’s balcony. The idea was to scare the pigeons off but I wasn’t convinced. I hurried round town to find a scarf and Bolesławiec crockery for my girls, even though you can buy it all in Lewes nowadays.’

At this moment.

Rupert M. Loydell: ‘On the other side of knowing is a hidden future but the forecast is not good. There are invisible seams in the sky and endless streams on the ground.’

‘Measuring Distances’ and four more prose poems.

Kimberly Campanello:’The books don’t know what’s inside their covers, or they don’t care. We could go to the top of the dune and play with the roots in the sand. We could even kneel down and twist them around our hands and wrists.’

San Miniato

Michelene Wandor: ‘The
scent of tanning fills the air. Soft
leather curls round the nape of my
neck, a soft black leather jacket,
loose and cooling. It fits as if made
for me. I buy it and it is made for
me. My leather lover.’

Nine poems.

Veroniki Dalakoura :’From the pile of rubbish, you went up with your dual essence, with what ultimately gives substance to the quest of man. Melodies were heard everywhere. Heaps, a pile of dirt, indeed dried-up earth. A fruitless search. Voices, joyful screams—what little songs—all together bleating with moans.’

‘Last kind words.’

Peter Riley: ‘The song was recorded in 1930 in a makeshift studio in Grafton, Wisconsin, and issued by Paramount Records as‘ Last Kind Words Blues’ on one side of a 78 rpm shellac disc with the musician’s name given as “Geeshie Wiley”. It’s not a simple lyric. It’s not about slavery, but slavery is there in it. It’s about the victims of war, but forgets that and after verse four goes off into transferable formulae (floating verses).’

Tarn’s ‘Hölderliniae’. 

Anthony Rudolf: ‘The intensity and power, the imbrication and musicality, the driving rhythm and complex syntax, in short the poet’s brain work and heart work, generate a singular and beautiful book.’

‘Echo Plus Star Equals’ and two more poems.

Simon Smith: ‘early valentine
seasons out of sync
each echo all
in the Greek
is to sing didactic
poems from the heart
& kiss the air’

To the muses.

Five Poems By TOM LOWENSTEIN.   O MUSE, WHEN I put my cuff to the sugar bowl and you come up smiling, how I love to play hide and seek with you, for aren’t we equally untrustworthy? And when you pretend sometimes to let me win, how charming but unsafe it feels to maintain, at […]

June haunting.

Alan Morrison: ‘Am I a revenant paying him a visit,
A revenant who thinks I’m still living, a ghost
His woozy thoughts have unwittingly brought out
From the cobwebbed boughs of his mind’s shadow wood…?’

Two uncollected personal poems.

Peter Robinson: ‘I didn’t know them, and don’t believe they have been published until now. They do not appear in Derek Slade’s composition chronology for 1990. Both of them are written out in Mary Ellison’s hand. The introductory reflection inscribed above ‘The First Footnote’ reads: ‘Based on a happy marriage to Joyce Holliday Roy is very good at relaxed yet probing friendship….’

Trees the Seed.

Peter Larkin: ‘How does the seed ascend to tree?     how does a tree descend from seed?      how they both pre-offer, re-predict, a participation they never seek        sudden reachables off each obliquity horizon’