Wednesday, September 28, 2011

notebook



Copies of old watercolours found in Hastings Old Town. (Above: by me; Below: by Maria)



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Monday, September 26, 2011

brief hist / IS - Better Than Language review

My review of the 2011 UK Poetry Anthology Better Than Language, which gradually emerged from within one of the posts below (they tend to go on spluttering like Darwinian ponds long after initial publication), has now achieved enough fixity to be relocated to
Intercapillary Space.

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Saturday, September 17, 2011

card by Ebs



Tree - length of tree lichen, Usnea species.
Leaves - spikelets of Cyperus species, probably Pale Galingale (Cyperus eragrostis).

Thursday, September 15, 2011

specimens of the literature of Sweden - jamjars

SYLT
BLÅBÄR

Ingredienser: Socker, blåbär, förtjockningsmedel: pektin, syra: citronsyra. Fruktmängd 45g per 100g sylt. Sockerhalt 62g / 100g.

Also translated into 15 other languages. The English translation is "blueberries", but that's inaccurate (though a literal rendering of the Swedish name). The fresh fruit which is sold in the UK as blueberry is one of a number of North American species, such as Vaccinium cyanococcus (American blueberry). This, on the other hand is the European species Vaccinium myrtillus, which as a wild plant is usually called Bilberry or Whortleberry. It is very common in Sweden and is an important ingredient in Swedish cuisine - the right to pick bilberries everywhere (except from nature reserves and private gardens) is encoded in law.


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brylcreem tea

the street is jumping & I'm desperate
I'm going all out with constant noise

Hole in her stocking and she keeps on rocking

I'm in the shop looking in the old cages,
steel pen behind the ear, I'm flattening
out an old, crumpled newspaper, kneeling on it.

Phoebe with younger sister Cora
at Liverpool
eve of world tour

lady with "Gib", an anaconda

Michaelmas term

I don't like things too fast.
It's starting
No it's stopping again, like the drink.
Early afternoon sherbet

to summer and the pines
gael maisie and the rat

It was that pissed-off look in the lane:
no-one was good enough.
It was a secret message,
it made you good enough for me.

But you could have had mine.

And there was the
big floppy book, E-K.
I tried to look up someone
but this bird has flown

as I roast in my sunset

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