foam:e
Index of poets

David Bircumshaw

 

David Bircumshaw
Pam Brown
Jill Chan
Jen Crawford
AnnMarie Eldon
Claire Gaskin
Jeff Harrison
Jill Jones
Mark Kanak
Christopher Kelen
Corinne Lee
Cassie Lewis
Lizz Murphy
Sheila E Murphy
Alaric Sumner
Louise Waller
Mark Young

Renga -
  Andrew Burke,
  Jen Crawford,
  Louise Waller,
  Lawrence Upton,
  Kristin Hannaford,
  Jennifer Compton,
  Heather Matthew,
  Jill Jones
  Alison Croggon

I know one thing, and that I know well:
living in Leicester is like being in hell.

David Bircumshaw

So solo una cosa e bene la so:
la vita a Leicester è un vero inferno

Italian version, from Anny Ballardini

Eitt veit ég þó,
og sú vitneskja er sýkt:
Að lífið í Leistri
er helvíti líkt!

Icelandic, from Arni Ibsen.

Fur this is hell, nor am a oot o it:
    there is nae wurld elsewhere;
'S Alexandria, no Leicester, yir leavin.

Scots, from Robin Hamilton.

Dissatisfactions with Verse

'White as a hospital, the lie began ....'

                I

This is an age of prose.

               II

The mountains have all been climbed.
Speechworst evicted gods grudge and slurry
Off into a flit loft of lost
Snow flurry. From slow masked
Breathmarks: plastic, oxygen.

              III

And rubble.

              IV

On the bed opposite, his head
Almost loll-loll lolling
Drop like a peach, pillowed
On nothing but memory
Like that portrait canvas what was it
Twitch old Goya plus doctor plus.
Who's emptied eyes swimming
Pools looking out
Drained beyond metaphor?

              V

This is an age of noise.

              VI

The pure noise, oh the colourless
Delight, arrhythmia
Shambling without shape. I believe
In chance, it is fate;
The wave's number's up. Look:
I am a voice, collapsing. Rilke's
Narrow angels' glob and puddle.

              VII

And scrabble.

               VIII

Without shape blur, form blah, purpose us,
Point dit, off dot, off off, dat, ooze sqwoos.

 

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