Friday, 13 November 2015

to the Bees

BIRDS, a poem

materials: elderberries on metal manhole cover canvas
Penryn Campus, October 2015

Twitter Style Review of Patrick Keiller's London

London in Several Parts
London in the rain #poetry
2015 viewing of London. Nostalgia #missthenineties #missedthepoint
London at the edges #poetry
The TV camera shot quality of the film creates a warm sense of remembrance in itself #thamestelevision
London #poetry
The narrator returns to London and spends time with his ex-lover Robinson. They explore London by foot #psychoeography #queerinterest.
O, London #poetry
Robinson, as central character, is both entertaining and informative but his anger and confusion are central #alienation
Where have you gone? #poetry
We learn a great deal about London past and present through their wanderings #londonfringe
O, London #poetry
There are touches of humour in the use of the soundscape and visual. Gateposts, Peruvian buskers, spring time and all that sort of thing.
O, O, O, O #poetry
Londoners ignore the siege of the city. We are left unsettled, feeling that time is never experienced in full at the moment of happening.
You have vanished #poetry
A deep-mapping effect of writers, artists and philosophers who have lived in London #psychogeography #filmreview #keiller #London
Dancing with your confusion #poetry
Robinson’s character is reminiscent of Guy Burgess #trilbywanderings #sovietapartment
Caught looking back #poetry
The view from the hotel room/ Monet’s painting of the Thames/ dinner and something more with your alter-ego.
London under siege # poetry
The history and the future of London colliding to create the present #philosophyoftime #psychogeography
London in the rain #poetry. 

Sunday, 1 November 2015

The Flannelled Flâneur #1

My voyage began in the afternoon...
dressed     for bed
a stroll to the desk
              and back
           to the desk
              and back
now to the window
litter the garden
leave the cat
curled hot
water bottle

and the clock
turned back
for day light
the wisp
into dusk
along field

down the valley

past the willows
ash and oak
                first  "shhh"
          shhh comes before
           the pheasant takes
                     off and flies
and over fence
and the breeze
of land agents
and haunted
houses above
the copse

the leaf face
and the whistle

of Tregeagle
emerging from
his tongue
in knots
of bindweed
his owner
calling him
through thicket
to where
the children
would swim
the world
was changed
in a single

pool half-found