Forwarding

  Delighted to hear that a poem from Human Form has been Highly Commended in the Forward Prize 2013 and will be reprinted in the Forward anthology which comes out on October 1st when the winners are announced. 'At Llantwhit Beach' doesn't seem the most natural choice and there would be quite a few others in the book I would nominate in its place but I'm certainly not complaining. It's nice that Claire Trevien - fellow Penned-poet I launched with - also had a poem Highly Commended, 'The Shipwrecked House II'. Interesting that both poems are ostensibly about the sea - do the judges perhaps think in terms of themes for the anthology?
  There's an article about judging the competition by Sheenagh Pugh here.http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2013/jul/08/judging-forward-prizes-for-poetry and the full shortlist can be read here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013/jul/08/forward-poetry-prize-shortlists-2013.
The choices for Best Book seem fairly predictable and something of a step back from the bolder list last year when Jorie Graham's PLACE won. The First Book six seem a bit more adventurous: I'm only familiar with Emily Berry's book so can't comment too much on the others.

Another Reading/Daft Punk

  So another reading to let you know about, this one on at 7 pm on Tuesday 23rd at Beaconsfield Library with Claire Trevien and Sarah Hesketh. It's World Book Day apparently but I don't know what that means (also b.day of the Bard, of course):

http://apps1.buckscc.gov.uk/eforms2005/events/edetails.aspx?ev=96456

All I know about about Beaconsfield is that it's 20 mins out of Marylebone and that it was Robert Frost's first place of residence when he came to England in 1912. (Although, Matthew Hollis tells us in Now All Roads Lead To France,  (Frost) " took no pleasure in suburban Beaconsfield.")

 

To enliven this dull post (and don't try and tell me Robert Frost isn't the most boring poet ever to attain putatively major status), here's Daft Punk's marvellous new production. "The present has no rhythm", is the first line of the second verse. Like it.

ABC of Reading Live

  Despite initial nerves the launch-reading went well, we had a good turn-out and it was nice to meet Claire and Roddy Lumsden at last. Reading live is a new thing for me and it's fascinating how things like tempo, pauses and tone of voice impact on the rhythm, mood and in fact the whole form and meaning of a poem. I look forward to doing more readings and developing this vocal understanding as my oratorical skills improve.
   Thanks to everyone who came along.

Launching Off

The launch of Human Form is tomorrow night at The Bell on Middlesex Street, just near Spitalfields Market. It's a joint event also featuring The Shipwrecked House, the startling debut volume by Claire Trevien: http://www.pennedinthemargins.co.uk/index.php/2013/02/the-shipwrecked-house-human-form/

Here's a poem of Claire's to draw you in:
Novella 
After Rimbaud’s ‘Roman’
    I
You can’t be serious when you’re twenty-one —
the evenings flare, a rolled joint behind your ear,
drunk on Wednesdays, university veteran!
You talk in your backyard of us all being queer.

The weed smells great on those June afternoons!
So sweet you could sleep through any exam;
the wind carries laughs, it’s humming a tune
older than you, Johnny Wright’s Hello Vietnam.

     II

The sky is all yours, you spy it through brambles
palpitating like grass you would like to caress…
You think the answer’s there to be unscrambled
if only the stars stopped changing their address.

June nights! Twenty-one! Easy to be wasted.
The cheapest wine is as good as any champagne…
You ramble on about the Bourdieu you tasted,
your lips crumple like a Communist campaign.
     III
You bildungsroman through books until
you spot a leading lady perched on a stool,
with the fruit machine lights pulsing her still
face red, green and blue. You think of Kabul.

She calls you a kid when you try to explain
— as her long nails trot gamely on the board —
why you are superior to her boyfriend,
but she leaves with her glass, looking bored.
     IV
You are in love: rented until August!
You are in love. She finds your poems laughable.
Your friends leave, your laundry starts to encrust
when at last, she responds to your madrigal!

That evening, you stroll out in the sun,
you order a kiss or a ginger beer;
you can’t be serious when you’re twenty-one
and there are summer evenings to premiere.