‘My upbringing among so-called “inarticulate” people has given me a passion for language that communicates directly and immediately. I prefer the idea of men speaking to men to a man speaking to god, or even worse to Oxford’s anointed.’
Writing is difficult when I forget to play. Tomorrow I shall play and enjoy the writing. Here’s some play from my notebook:
Doodle
Imagine the art of doodling dies out
with the corded phone and the message pad
on which we explore the storm of a signature
or idly draw our own prisons.
Fully digital, there’ll be no escape,
from double history or the monthly team meeting,
aboard sailboats bound for those desert islands
we discover in the margins of a page.
How will we visit our corners without the pyramids
and chessboards of these unfocused sketches?
Lost in the spaghetti junction of ourselves,
afloat in our think bubbles.
Wearing a tawny lion pelt upon
My spindly shoulders I carry both of them,
My father and my mother, into the darkness,
My father hoarsely singing, “They are there!”
—The glimmer of something that is glimmering there—
“I see the glow of weapons in the shadows!”
Through which with my purblind eyes I think I see
Something in the darkness waiting there.
Above me in the dark my mother’s voice
Calls down to me, “Who’s there? Who is it there?”
Step after step together we make our way,
In the darkness of my memory of our house.
Chain looped around your toe, pull the plug
and stay to feel the earth reclaim your weight
(earth and word being about the same)
as though you’re only you in an empty bath
and not the last of your tribe chipped out the ice
and thawing in the programmed air of a lab,
bearskins sopping on your legs and shoulders,
the vowel you used for mother in your cheek.
I start with paper, pencil and words (as many as I like – they’re free), writing until some vague shape comes into focus. Watching a poem crystallise on a computer screen feels too solid too soon, looks too much like a page for publication. I start my poems in pencil on scrap paper or in cheap exercise books I buy in packs. It’s important for me that this stage of the process is as free from consequence as possible, and expensive notebooks and Times New Roman seem to ask, Are you sure? It’s too early to be sure.
The poem begins as mine – handwritten, scruffy and scribbled out – but through the process of its forming – redrafting and editing – the poem becomes its own thing. Now the poem can ask, Am I sure?
I wrote the poem thinking of those magicians I grew up watching on Saturday evening television in the Eighties, and where they might be now that karaoke and celebrity chefs have taken over the schedules.
WARNING: This poem contains strong language. There is no flash photography.
My ‘Yoga’ sequence has been published on the very new #New Writing website, alongside poems by George Szirtes, Moniza Alvi, Esther Morgan, Sandeep Parmar and Joyelle McSweeney. #New Writing is a collaboration between the University of East Anglia and Writers’ Centre Norwich showcasing new writing from UEA (students, faculty and alumni) and commissioned work from Writers’ Centre Norwich’s national and international literature projects.
Body of Work: 40 Years of creative Writing at UEA (Full Circle Editions) will be launched in London on 1 December. The ‘Toe’ poem I posted here last month will appear in the anthology. It’s a great honour to have my poem included in Body of Work. I’ve seen the proofs and would recommend the book to anyone interested in literature and creative writing.
Here’s a video documenting a project I worked on last year. Well Versed was a pilot project bringing poets and teachers together to improve the presentation of poetry in primary and secondary schools. Well Versed was managed by Writers Centre Norwich in partnership with Creativity, Culture and Education.
I spent National Poetry Day (yesterday) at St. Augustine’s Priory School in Ealing, West London. I was at the school for a reading and Q&A with sixth form students, followed by a workshop with Year 9s. The students asked some interesting questions about constraint and the creative process.
In July I was asked to write a poem for an anthology celebrating forty years of creative writing at the University of East Anglia. I’d bumped into the Creative Writing Professor in Norwich and he’d asked if I’d have a go at writing in response to a Derek Mahon poem called ‘Head’. Mahon’s ‘Head’ would appear last in the anthology and my poem, should I choose to take up the challenge, should be titled ‘Toe’ and would appear first; a kind of top and tail, or tail and top. So, ‘Toe’… and it needed to be about inspiration/creation, either stubbing a toe or building a golem beginning with the toe. So, ‘Toe’… and I had little over two weeks to write it. Two weeks in which I was working in schools and away at Latitude. Not long. So, ‘Toe’…
A few days from the deadline I considered requesting an extension, but, as I said yesterday, deadlines are good, as are constraints on subject; they squeeze and steer the writing. I still don’t know how I feel about my ‘Toe’. It’s kind of mine and not mine, but it is there.
Thank you to the students and teachers at St. Augustine’s for an excellent National Poetry Day. Here’s ‘Toe’.
Toe
It makes sense to start with the toe and work up.
I pull off my sock to check my own dumb digit,
get a sense of proportion, follow tendons and joints
to the nub that’s furthest from my head and mouth.
It’s best not to think too much, just get something down:
a big toe from which to build the foot, the shin, the head.
I warm a pound or so of clay between my clammy hands
and roll out the capital letter of his body’s first line.
When he’s complete, I’ll prop a ladder against his chest
to scratch a title into the bluish slab of forehead,
then wait for him to move a toe or suck up breath.
Tonight I’ll lead him, broad-backed, into your city,
leave him to sleep in oily lock-ups and walk the streets
with nothing but this poem rolled beneath his tongue.
I’m reading at the Wymondham Words Festival on Friday 16 September at 8pm at the Ex-Services Club in Wymondham. I’ll be reading with Kate Kilalea, Andy McDonnell and Tim Cockburn. The festival is on all weekend and has an excellent line-up, including Mark Cocker, Richard Mabey, Helen Ivory and Elspeth Barker. Further details here.
After an excellent week working with students and teachers for Stalham High School’s literature festival last month, I’m honoured to be adopted as the school’s honorary poet. I look forward to working with Stalham again in the new academic year.
I have a poem in a forthcoming collection of essays and poems celebrating forty years of creative writing at the University of East Anglia. I was asked to write a poem about writing/inspiration and using the title ‘Toe’ in response to a poem by Derek Mahon called ‘Head’.
The idea behind Well Versed was poets working with teachers to improve the presentation of poetry in primary and secondary schools. It was great to work with Molly and all the students and teachers at West Earlham Primary, Wicklewood Primary and North Walsham High School.