Autumn Journal  4122

This work contains the following individual pieces:

Locations in Harold's Library

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2 thoughts on “Autumn Journal”

  1. Reading Canto V from the London anthology. I absolutely love the mix of beautiful poetic descriptions (of people, of places, of times and of moral dilemmas) which run side-by-side with totally unpoetical snippets of conversation, some which are jolted into poetry by line-breaks which all add to the edgy feeling,

         Or do you mean the Australians have lost their last by ten
    Wickets …

    Others jolt us back out of the 21st century and back to the first half of the 20th:

    In Tottenham Court Road the tarts and negroes …:

    I’d read two-thirds of the way through the poem before noticing the rhyme structure which runs all the way through the Canto; ABCB etc etc; it was two B lines

         Converges on our beds

         Trophy of pelts and heads.

    that suddenly jumped out at me, particularly troubling as I’m seldom one to miss a rhyme. It must have been the longer length of the A and C lines, and the greater irregulairty of their metre, which caused me to miss it. I must write more irregular verse.

    The poem caught my eye while flicking through for two lines close to the end of the Canto

    And factory workers are on their way to factories
         And charwomen to chores.

    That’s basically the Brecht Dreigroschenoper opening stage direction (Die Bettler betteln, die Huren huren, ein Moritatensänger singt einen Moritat …), but it’s lifted away from feeling too much like a Lehrstück by the two lines that precede it:

    And now the daily cart comes clopping slowly—
         Milk at the doors—

    I hadn’t realised char-/chore shared the same root, and that clopping of the hooves, the simplicity of “Milk at the doors” but using that to set up the “workers of the world” noun-verb pairings that follow without being too simplistic is just right for me.

    It’s all kind of teetering just on the brink between being Kiplingesque verse (I’ve just been reading In Partibus) and something more poetically polished. And I really really like that …

  2. Canto III opens with a lovely triangle of images around “tanned”, “joie de vivre” and “contraband”; the happiness of those returning from abroad with holiday photos and all the physical signs of having had a good relaxing time are guilty pleasures to be furtively sneaked past friends who haven’t, or friends who won’t, or friends who never will again. Perhaps there’s something about “black market” which, for me, links “contraband” and “tanned” through more than just the rhyme scheme.

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