Monday, March 14, 2005


The girl in the sun of her grandad's password
made a slight error as she
strode across the liquid light,
becoming unstable in the universe,
withering to fade in a simple binary
of opposite equal quadrants
braided with collars of golden
community care hospitals;
opening their souls encased in concrete

splattering corridors of shadow and brindle
in the deep held blur-cored within the error
message of her soul's short journey into deep

Cyber wide pop ups talk up in telling her
of tapped new toys playing in waterfall brain-
storms her mother left for the milkman
of her nightmares.

Bubbling joyless her muffling nowhere
left her desperate for more of the loveless white
top bird peck mourning the red daughters loss.


The impulse behind this discontinuity of narrative came after reading Tolstoy, whilst simultaneously (forgive typo) listening to Bob Cobbing and Robert Creely, who were playing on a self created tape I have, whereby the two have been cut up and spliced as one, a sort of write through, but using the tonal quality of the end line breath-pause for a basic literary structure on which the verbal piece is hung.

Tolstoy informs the passion, or, rather, the more "real" creative elements of a constituent linguistic word-play and critical register. Which is actually a very exciting way of creating interesting pieces that challenge persona expectation deployed within the narrative (as such as there is one), and, I think - works very well.

A muscular steadfast meter that is not afraid to ask some pretty serious questions about the deeper aspects of the mundane. The girl in the sun who makes the stride could be connected with the Kavanagh notion of snatching moments of poetry out from "the passionate transitory". Although, when her alter-ego persona (who is "her" hinted to reside in a community care hospital) is receiving pop ups telling her of the mothers fantasy about a milkman, I suppose, Blake's more visionary philisophique, inherent in Albion, could be legitimately suggested to counter that notion.

Thus fulfilling the binary motif inherent in the work. Pound's advice of keeping the abstractions low is certainly taken by the mother in the dream, as evidenced in "bird peck", suggesting a whole different and interesting tonality or sweep of the syntactic line. Which makes for a challenging and rewarding read.

Jolly well done.

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