Now

M. Borymchuk

You are unwilling to be vaccinated against COVID-19.

She is a male who has just won a woman’s swimming-competition.

Is Hunter’s laptop his confession?

The trees have started losing their confetti.

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Madame Gautreau Drinking a Toast

John Singer Sargent, Madame Gautreau Drinking a Toast, 1882–83.

Terrific article in Artsy about this restless sitter by Alina Cohen

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GREY SUIT LAUNCH – 22 March 2022

Click the link for a Celebration of Grey Suit Editions UK

 

Grey Suit celebration!

 

Tuesday 22 March from 6.30 pm – with a reading at 7 pm. at The Rugby Tavern in Bloomsbury

 

All welcome. Please let friends know. There will be free wine and nibbles.

 

Rugby Tavern, 19 Great James Street, WC1N 3ES

 

Here are examples of the work of the authors

 

More details – 0208 801 8577

 

Please come to Grey Suit celebration! Lorraine Mariner, Donald Gardner and Anthony Howell will be reading, and Callie Michail will read some poems by Iliassa Sequin.

 

Featuring the pamphlets and books we have published during lock-down

 

Lorraine Mariner’s fabulous chap-book Anchorage

Iliassa Sequin’s Collected Complete Poems

Donald Gardner’s New and Selected Poems

and my novel The Distance Measured in Days

All welcome. Please let friends know. There will be free wine and nibbles and all our publications will be for sale.

 

Rugby Tavern, 19 Great James Street, WC1N 3ES

More details – 0208 801 8577

 

Lorraine Mariner was born in 1974 and lives in London where she works at the National Poetry Library, Southbank Centre. She has published two collections with Picador, Furniture (2009) and There Will Be No More Nonsense (2014) and has been shortlisted for the Forward Prize twice, for Best Single Poem and Best First Collection, and for the Seamus Heaney Centre Poetry Prize.Review of Lorraine Mariner’s Anchorage – now in London Grip

 

Iliassa Sequin was born in 1940 on a small island in the Cyclades, where her father was a high school teacher. Soon after the family moved to Athens. With musicality in language uppermost in her concerns she developed an original poetic style and this led to her being befriended by Odysseas Elytis (later a Nobel prize winner). Family opposition to her career as a writer and an actress prompted her to move to Germany. From then on she flitted between Germany, Italy, France and Sweden becoming a friend of Peter Weiss and Susan Sontag, Giuseppe Ungaretti, André du Bouchet and Paul Celan. John Ashbery published her work in the Partisan Review, and a sequence of her quintets was published by Peter Gizzi in O-blek Editions. Later she moved to Britain, and married the artist Ken Sequin. Her work is notable for its musical beauty, its distinct structure and particular typographical decisions. She died in the winter of 2019.

 

Donald Gardner was born in London, but has largely lived outside the UK, moving to the Netherlands in 1979. He began writing poetry in the early 1960s, when he was living in Bologna as a Prix de Rome historian. Later he spent some years in New York where he was a lecturer in English Literature at Pace College. His first live reading was at the Poetry Project on Saint Marks Place and in 1967, he took the stage at the East Village Theatre, in the company of Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and others. On his return to London, his first collection, Peace Feelers, was published in 1969 by Café Books. A second collection followed in 1974, For the Flames (Fulcrum). Recent books are The Wolf Inside (Hearing Eye, 2014) and Early Morning (Grey Suit Editions 2017). Gardner has always been a literary translator, as well as poet, initially of Latin American writers: The Sun Stone by Octavio Paz and Three Trapped Tigers by Guillermo Cabrera Infante. He has also translated many Dutch and Flemish poets and in 2015 he won the Vondel Prize for his translations of Remco Campert (Shoestring Press). Now in his eighties, he continues to write poetry and to translate other poets and is an acclaimed reader of his own work.

 

Anthony Howell is a poet and novelist whose first collection of poems, Inside the Castle was brought out in 1969.  In 1986 his novel In the Company of Others was published by Marion Boyars.  Another novel Oblivion has recently been published by Grey Suit editions.  His Selected Poems came out from Anvil, and his Analysis of Performance Art is published by Routledge.  His poems have appeared in The New Statesman, The Spectator and The Times Literary Supplement.  His articles on visual art, dance, performance and poetry have appeared in many journals and magazines including Artscribe, Art Monthly, The London Magazine, and Harpers & Queen.    In 1997 he was short-listed for a Paul Hamlyn Award for his poetry.  His versions of the poems of Statius were well received and his versions of the poems of Fawzi Karim were the Poetry Book Society Recommended translation for 2013.

 

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A Staged Ukraine?

I found this perception @Robert-Self

I thought it made two stunning points to consider.

Also this was what Kim Iverson found.

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Peking Pet

Detail from the tomb of Princess Yongtai
Me – since she wants to be the best –
I’m glad to be her teacher, however long it takes.  
I revel in the pressure of her chest,
Am taken by the way she now makes
Use of lozenge eyes in order to step past me.
She does make a lot of mistakes.
Nevertheless, she likes it when I’m strict with her. 
 
I’ve noted how obedient she can be. 
For instance, she complied when I suggested
She lie on her back, squeezing an inflated
Ball between her knees, so as to strengthen
Her inner thighs. Flustered, as she spread
Her legs to hold the ball, she tried to find a way
To keep the hem of her frock from rising. 
 
Brusquely, I told her not to be so coy.
The exercise would help her tone the knees.
So the frock rucked up, revealing
The V of her panties. This was such a tease!
There she lay on the floor in front of me:
Disguising it, I gazed, and gazed my fill,
Even as I instructed her to squeeze
 
The ball hard, increasing the pressure,
Then to relax, then to repeat the exercise. 
Thrilling it was to see her like that – 
Unconsciously a stimulating sight,
With smooth, bare, inviting thighs
And panties so delightfully exposed.
I told her if she didn’t get it right
 
I would have to punish her.
She laughed at that. I tried to smile
As I endeavoured to remain polite,
Pretending that my threat was but a joke.  
She laughed, just as she often will
When I drive her home and say good night,
And a peck on the cheek is the thanks I get.
 
If I should muster the guts to say
That I wish that for once she would give
Me a kiss on the lips, again I get that laugh,
Then out she slips, for as she is aware,
The kiss would not end there. That kiss would be
The start. Revenge informs my need
To punish her – for peck and brisk depart. 
 
I also need to adjust the carriage of her pelvis. 
It’s the way she’s built: she carries her arse
At a tilt. Her behind lifts upwards at
The back. This is a fault. It has to be corrected. 
When next she comes for tuition
I shall be strict about this fault of hers. 
Should she tilt her bum up, it will be detected.
 
Straight out, I will question her position.
Tell her she’s a silly girl, yes, with a silly behind. 
Her bum is lovely, but a proper bum
Should never tilt up eagerly like that
Except when made available for punishment.
Brutality’s built into my designs on her.
Carnage turns the key to my intent.
 
The tenor of our weekly lesson manifests
The urgency she’s able to stir up in me:
I write this in a state, you see. My guise
Is at her beck: lewd are the feelings
That ensue; emotions prompted
By her softness, her smoothness, her eyes,
Her delicious scent – just as the crudeness
 
I daren’t voice, the harsh part of my fantasy,
Feeds upon her svelte Oriental identity.             
Thus it must always be, for passion needs its opposite:
Steel seeks out water, water longs for steel.
She is an atheist. I am. So be it.
But I can’t place her in her communist China.
Some refined locale has more appeal.
 
There, I would have her lightly dressed,
Yes, in a flowing chenshan. The lightest silk
Chenshan, as liquid around her as water. 
However there is no way to fasten it, so
She has to hold it together. It’s then that I start
My approach, and, as for her chenshan,
She cannot help but let it fall apart. 
 
I’m gentle, yet within an air of calm
There is that hint of cruelty. A cruelty I hide,
As a cat may purr before it hurts the bird. 
She has gone weak at the knees. She senses
Me inhaling her desire. We are both
On a couch now somewhere and the breeze
Comes stealing, through some muslin draperies. 
 
Chinese landscape
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Anja Konig -Thoughts of an Unprofessional Poet

This article by Anja Konig expresses a lot of my own misgivings about poetry as a competing profession.

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I Love Russia!

Manege, St Petersburg

I love Russia. Wonderful people, wonderful dancers, wonderful minds. I am sickened by Western hate-propaganda instigated by the mass media and by our corrupt leaders. I recall with huge fondness my one performance in Russia:

Homage to the Horses of Saint Petersburg. Please click the link for the video of this performance.

Everyone was so helpful, even the police. When I initially suggested that I wanted to bring horses into the Imperial Riding School for the first time since the Revolution, the police, who administered the building said No. When I said we would take the shoes off the horses so as not to damage the marble floor, they said Yes.

When I informed the police that later we would be naked while leading the horses around the columns of the facade, they said No. Public nudity had been disallowed by a law that came in after Glasnost! When I said, well, technically under the facade, according to classical law, we were within the precincts of the building, they said Yes!

Reason thus prevailed. Imagine if that had been the UK police or the US police.

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TOUGHS

Boadicea

My new article on toughs in literature  is now published by the Fortnightly review.

Featuring a grumpy old git’s thoughts on what we can and what we cannot say, as well as the writing of Stewart Home, Mr Fish, Dana Gillespie, Catherine Millet, Takako Arai, Holly Howitt, Elizabeth Jenkins, Tom Bland and Joelle Taylor.

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Richard Lovelace on Poetry Competitions

Richard Lovelace

I am an admirer of good abstract poetry, and yet I felt drawn to satire after teaching in jails for several years. Now I find the tension between intention and unintentionality something that can provoke strong satirical writing. Ultimately even writing critical of society must be free to veer off in any direction – with verve! This is well demonstrated in Richard Lovelace’s “On Sanazar’s Being Honoured” – the most devastating satire on poetry competitions ever written. The full title is “On Sanazar’s being honoured with six hundred Duckets by the Clarissimi of Venice, for composing an Eligiack Hexastick of The City“. Here is the link.

Lovelace has always been one of my favourite poets, and he knew just what jail was!

His favourite trope is the oxymoron. I wrote an epigram in his honour:

 

OXYMORON

It was this device

Which appealed to Lovelace

Ruined by war.

Everything blown.

x

Finding the topsy-turvy

Through his syntax,

He juggled with a world

Turned upside down.

*

Some of my own satirical poetry can be found here at this link – Dick – and here at this link – Diatribe. More of my own satirical writing can be found in From Inside, published by the High Window Press.

And Statius, Dante’s guide through Purgatory, deftly juggles flattery and satire. Here is the link to a selection of his Silvae.  

See also Satire for the Millennium.

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A review for ‘The Cross of Carl’ by Walter Owen – republished by Grey Suit Editions

Radierung, Aquatinta (1924) von
Otto Dix [02.12.1891 – 25.07.1969]

Great to see a review of The Cross of Carl in the current edition of the HIGH WINDOW

Thank you Michael Crowley!

Click WALTER OWEN here – for details about the book.

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