Let’s Talk!

On the 23rd of March, Uncovered Artistry will continue to uphold the power of creativity by hosting an evening in celebration of literature. There will be readings from five talented writers, Colin Herd, David Linklater, AK Thaysen, Kirsty Dunlop and John Birtwhistle. Each of them has kindly sent us a poem in the lead up to the night to wet our whistles.

 

Buttermilk
By Colin Herd

Fill a heavy jar with double cream
shake and shake some more

or you can take whole milk,
add vinegar and leave a while

it’s a choice between telling someone
you need them or setting the scene for
them to tell you


Fusion
By David Linklater

Sitting on a chair with the legs going
The air is close with disinfectant and shellfish
A couple slips out the side door
And kiss as if there’s a bullet headed for them

Nosferatu cuts about the Ballroom
Karaoke music every time
The old thin man leans out for John Players
He stands there smoking lovers along a Spanish beach

The day’s going under
I’m waiting for the food I ordered
It’s unfortunate I’m no longer hungry
Planes are remembered in soft heights

And sunlight in layers of cloud
Sometimes you must wait for the next meal
And the streets are not long enough
To really put your feet in

Biting nails chewing mouth
No tobacco no love no ketchup
It’s quiet in this part of town
No joy for the workers

Sun tapers beyond the Necropolis
Birds and turbines
The burger will arrive
I will go home and place it in the fridge
Sit by the window

The sky is doing it again
She has put her makeup on

 

Condition
By Kirsty Dunlop

ebbing out is easier than

soaking in

skin and solid soul make me crinkle

i thought she was a man     i thought he was a woman

i say fix me

i can’t stop expanding

veins are rippling ribbons

like rhyme, like rhythm

but she felt like a woman               but he spoke like a man

i think and dangle straight line

deep down to set root rule

but imagination streams

       and she had an unstable title                                 and he had a steady name

i call deep violence

destruction to system

inner unborn baby cry

so then poet is man woman                                                   so then poet is female male

i silence the sink in unheard

pulse inside the stable but stand

in

balance.


Magnetic Sense
By AK Thaysen

I read this morning in an online journal
about special molecules in the retinas of foxes.
They see all the usual stuff — styrofoam boxes
along Kelvinway, a bit of worm — but also the Earth’s
magnetic fields, how many degrees away
from magnetic North. Shame really,

that they use such a superpower,
pouncing on what lawn or flower bed of mine
is directly in front of them, squandering
enough navigational precision
to make navy lieutenant proud.

Turns out, birds sense Earth’s magnetism too. In fact,
robins blinded with goggles can’t seem to migrate home without it,
and instead swivel around pointlessly in test trials,
gloomy from staying too long
in the wrong place. I wonder what it’s like

to be a robin, or a fox, or any of the hundreds of other animals
with such a sense, reading the currents
of the Atlantic like an alphabet,
waking to light and bone and dust
and feeling yourself a part of it,
more in relation to the earth
than to time or space.

Would I be able to feel how very far away I am,
four thousand six hundred miles northeast
of the yard where my dog is buried
and the house where my height is marked
by pencil lines on a kitchen wall?

And how would I feel if I then had
this great northbound sense taken away at a dime,
like the goggled robins in the experiment?
Something must feel dropped —

just as, when you were a child at a birthday party,
and somebody blindfolded you with a bandana —
you closed your eyes to count
ten, twenty, thirty seconds.
Your guests hid away in trunks & boxes
for you to seek them in the dark.

 

By Derwent Dam
By John Birtwhistle


Lolling in the dead of summer

on the bank of a reservoir I watch

a boy skimming stones

A few skip once and quickly sink

Mostly they sink at once

and it looks just lucky when

a stone bounces along like a bomb

and with the boy Coleridge

he ‘numbers its light leaps’

With no more knack than his

in duck-and-drake affairs

I think I can easily see

how he might differ his angle

select his missiles and govern

those clumsy energies

except that even as I watch

he’s picking up his own tricks

and fewer tries go down

utterly into that reservoir

made by reflected woods

and by drowned villages

 

 

Uncovered Artistry Presents: Let’s Talk! will be held at The Project Café, Glasgow, 6pm – 8pm on the 23rd of March.

All proceeds from the night will go directly towards the work of Uncovered Artistry in supporting the creativity of survivors of sexual and domestic abuse. Tickets cost £3 and can be bought here:
https://www.uncoveredartistry.com/product-page/full-price-ticket

For more information, go to:
https://www.facebook.com/events/1894827984084437/

Let's Talk Poster

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s