Every morning since Hollo died I've read his work (many of his books, but all of the indescribable Sojourns collected poems volume) on the tube, going to woerk, on the central Line. I've already written about how this work has had a profound affect on me, how personal it has become, how I feel his work like a ghost around me in this city. Now starting to read other poets for the first time in what feels like a long time, I have the sensation there are other things at play. This poetry has done something to me poetry has not done before. I don't know what that is. The humour, the trace of Scandinavia is in there. I'm sharing this work with people I really care about and they are feeling it too. Some snippets
whatever these two do
is interesting
round lamps of cells grow
up to lover porridge later
switch then to sleep now
the flying foxes swarm out
great its flurry time
watching the spectacle of the money
come to an end
things become clear
the energy of the world has grown tired
of our green &
bumbling
bumbling miniature world tree
in our front room
at times it seems merely a question of how to abdicate
the dashing biologist
“with the looks of a viking”
but really my parents
you were giant white rabbit people
one worries about the future of bears
in public in one house
this is known as a poetry reading
then one proceeds to drink gallons of cider in public
this is known as getting cracked
in love we loaf
munching love’s leaf
it is a fortunate condition
it is a pre-occupied porcupine
going about mother maya’s business
ah anna bloom
sweet ginger muff
the world seen as a huge inpenetrable
granite arse
el che is dead long live moomin troll
the elephant fell in love with a milimeter
francois villon was beautiful people
he went around treating people like shit
didn’t marry him ‘only to sleep’
but does now
sleep
they drowned my puppies
so I drunk a lot of vodka
there’s none could cure you
of your ignorance
I mean that’s great
we love you as you are
here
in the upper devonian sea
life is quiet
tumbleweed
looks like the skeleton of a brain
if a brain had bones
a bear, I thought
not one minute of my life have I wasted