16 December 2005

Good to see Natalie scoring success with her brilliant cartoons, notably the extraordinary Augustine Interviews God.  Long overdue & only the beginning of great things.   ***   I’ve had a small success with a poem I posted some time ago. Called Wheal Dream, it’s about a one-time tin mine near St Ives. Last summer I submitted it for an anthology of poetry with a Cornish theme & then thought no more about it. I received a letter last week notifying me that it is to be included. The anthology is called 101 Poets for a Cornish Assembly so by my inclusion I appear to be supporting the demand for some kind of representative political body for Cornwall such as is available to the Scots & Welsh.    Not too fussed about that at all.  As a region with a strikingly distinctive cultural identity &, until 150 years ago (or thereabouts), its own language, I have much sympathy for such aspirations.   And according to the publishers of the anthology ‘interest in this project has been very high & (they) have received submissions from all around the world’. I’m easily convinced & easily bought. If only 102 poets submitted work, I’ll never know…   ***   Rosie has conjunctivitis & Reuben has chickenpox.  She’s on the mend but poor old Reuben is riddled. He even has spots in his ears & between his toes. I’m administering libations of something called [Pause. At this point Reuben called out in his sleep & I had to shut down in order to begin the long watches of the night.] Friday December 16th   …something called Eurax, which does appear to reduce the agony of itching that kept him awake most of the night before last.    Exhaustion all round this morning.   ***   A huge high moon last night.  In a clear, starry sky, the bright map was plainly visible.  Jago Flood wrote a poem about the moon, which I was generous enough to host a while back.   names of the moon   sucked pebble: tongued smooth by ancient salt night / starflecks in a quantum field / sour white beached as night sucks out // old coin: dun metal edged like a flint shard / spent / effaced the ghost profile watching the dust fly // bleached horns: hook hanging depending nothing but planetwrack the dead hair of comets // broken button: tugged & twine frayed against the cape & cowl / shrugged high in iceheart marrowbone dark // flat cataract: milk or smoke or silica obscuring the macula / watching only what she remembers of red shift / of spectral drift // abalone pearl: infected by a drugged horizon thus pink & sable deep elliptical frozen albumen eyes in the night: tsuki / menes / chand / spogmay / he’ni / loar / namwaikaina   JAGO FLOOD 11:19:58 AM    Mmm? []

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