Category Archives: Poetry

Damned If I Look Back

Two things struck me while visiting Chicago last week. Firstly, of course, the architecture, with neo-Gothic, Art Deco, neoclassical and Modernist styles combining harmonically to form an exhilarating urban ensemble. Visiting Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House and touring … Continue reading

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Ten Stories of Beethoven’s Ninth

Adorno thought that Beethoven had gone too far with his Ninth Symphony, that he had made the work all too intelligible. Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is woven into the fabric of life in Japan with the finale available as a karaoke … Continue reading

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Leave All Rhetoric Out

It’s been a hard winter, but summer is here and the fields want us to walk upright. Every man is unimpeded, but careful, as when you stand up in a small boat. I remember a day in Africa: on the … Continue reading

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Futuristic Howling

If the halls of the Hermitage would suddenly go mad, if the paintings of all schools and masters should suddenly break loose from the nails, should fuse, intermingle, and fill the air of the rooms with futuristic howling and colours … Continue reading

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The Saddhu Of Couva

When sunset, a brass gong, vibrate through Couva, is then I see my soul, swiftly unsheathed, like a white cattle bird growing more small over the ocean of the evening canes, and I sit quiet, waiting for it to return … Continue reading

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With Long Rests

That portrait of Gerard Hopkins in the Lit. Sup., so quiet, so thoughtful, so almost prettily devout. Strange to think that many, many years ago he actually sat in that position, with folded hands (although they are not there), with … Continue reading

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Dostoevsky by Charles Bukowski

against the wall, the firing squad ready. then he got a reprieve. suppose they had shot Dostoevsky? before he wrote all that? I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered not directly. there are billions of people who have never read him … Continue reading

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Sebald, Benjamin – Life-Bio-Mapping

In Walter Benjamin’s Berlin Chronicle,  he wrote, “Memories, even when they go into great breadth, do not always represent an autobiography.” Memories may appear as text in Benjamin’s fragmentary reminiscences of Berlin, but his explorations go deeper than memoir, in a form … Continue reading

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Doomed by Egotism

I have heard the key Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his own prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison Only at nightfall, ethereal rumours Revive for a … Continue reading

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The Drunken Boat by Arthur Rimbaud

I followed deadpan Rivers down and down, And knew my haulers had let go the ropes. Whooping redskins took my men as targets And nailed them nude to technicolour posts. I didn’t give a damn about the crews, Or the … Continue reading

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