click on the underlined title at the end of an extract to go to the full item

flavours

some themes  

   

Here are some of the themes touched on in these extracts.  Some are ironical; they hint at part of the story but by no means all of it.  Click on one of them to go to an extract.

analogy

death

history

longing

oddness ‘scum’ water

angst

decay

impotence

love

pain

senses

wit

apocalypse

delusion

incomprehension

lust

pariah

stillness

work

betrayal

democracy

industry

meditation

perception

study

 

childhood

discovery

insects

memory

policing

successors

 

churches

displacement

instance

metaphysics

records

time

 

city

eroticism

joy

mourning

redemption

transience

 

climate

females

judgment

muddle

research

values

 

corporeality

fortitude

knowledge

myth

revenge

vocation

 

country

games

language

naming

rules

walking

 Below is a selection of notes which accompany the poems.
 Again, they are only partially representative.

cruelty

herbals

life

nature

Schopenhauer

war 


This is not for everyone.  What is?  You will find it helpful if you have an intelligent sense of humour and at least half a belief that an interpretation of life, the universe and everything can be had from reading poets as well as scientists,  philosophers and theologians.  A streak of scepticism helps.  Glance at some of the extracts below and you will know if you wish to go further.

                              HOME

 Abbreviations
  v(v).= verse(s)         l(l).= line(s)
           pt.=part
           para(s).=paragraph(s)

Layout of source after each item:
                             
SECTION
                        
   (top)––Poem, verse

At the head of each extract there are three words which allude to some of the themes in the extract.  These are not necessarily major to the poem or note from which the extract is drawn.  Nonetheless, these themes, and others, are major within The Nature of Things as a whole. Memory.  Records.  Games.
  I know that all maps lie.  Not marked,
                                           the raft
  we hid beneath the alders by the dump
  where we stole secret Bibles and pram
                                           springs….

                                   MAPS
                                
(top)––Maps, v.3
On Night Walks.  The original ‘Hermetic literature’ (circa 50–300 AD) in Greek and Latin covered philosophy, theology, the occult, alchemy and astrology.  The English ‘hermetic’ and the Italian ‘ermetico’  both came to refer to ancient lore, especially alchemy, and also to anything sealed, mysterious, cryptic.  So the purified image was also a code to be deciphered.
                                                     
(top)
On Gang War.  Another fishing trip into things past.  Kids in war zones play war games.  At the time of writing, refugee children were doing it in the Balkans; in Africa ten-year-olds didn’t just play: like dogs sent to tear out throats, to step on mines, they engaged.  An evacuee, I had lodgings to retire to.  The scene: Bishop's Waltham, Hampshire.  War was fantasy.  Cowboy films were real.   (top)
Pariah.  Muddle.  Death.
  A junk-fest behind the library!
  Cassettes, clothes, curtains, huddle
                                               in trays.
  Wasps buzz bananas, the air drizzles.
  A dosser dies, a girl aged fifteen.
       PEASANT MOON
  
(top)––Death in the Morning, v.1
Childhood.  Love.  Perception.
  Stunned by his own created world,
  the babe’s surprise is justified;
  and so (her arm about him curled)
  is her unfazed, seraphic pride.

     
   
GRANDMOTHER AND CHILD
          ––Grandmother and Child, v.3
                                        
         (top)
Analogy.  Metaphysics. 
                             
Incomprehension.
 Change metaphor.  The All’s a Möbius
 or torus skein of gut wound differently
 every time round, and in the midmost
                                                   layer
 there is a knot of gut, and in it: we,

 
quite round the twist.
        THE NATURE OF THINGS
   
(top)––De Rerum Natura, pt.3 v.1
On Chimes.  One admires a fable, like ‘He rose again on the third day’, but not a Divine Chemist who’s out of his skull.  If the world is not intelligible in principle, what else but Nature’s ‘insanity’ is responsible?  All right, equating the incomprehensible with insanity is wrong, a category error, but you might get my drift anyway.
                                                    (top)
On The Devil and the Devil.  I must have had in mind some vague notion of the history of Satan in Zoroastrianism.  I could have told you that this creed in ancient Persia (BC) saw the universe as a place of struggle between a figure of Darkness and a figure of Light.  That was all I knew and needed.  Dualism.  A split in the universe.  However, the title and the last line speak in terms of a twin-darkness, not of a Zoroastrian Darkness and Light.   (top)
War.  Pain.  Displacement.
  Born as a refugee
  from fire and bayonet,
  my mouth a cellar of smoke,
  my father’s worst fear yet,
     THE DEVIL AND THE DEVIL
            
(top)––Balkan Sacrifice, v.1
Time.  Judgment.  Decay.
  But years will change, new
                            colours will seep in:
  the earth look dull as grout.
 The sun will seem to
                             smoke like paraffin.
  Umpires will jerk about.
 The roof will creak, no one know 
                              what we’ve been;
  and soon we’re really out.
                             THE KISS
                        
(top)––Prepared, v.5
History.  Vocation.  Naming. 
 
Cathedral and museum have reinforced
 the shapes men have to fit.  The
                                       experts name
 a way that diode, ogive, hypocaust,
 lex, missal, medicine, may 
                                       form a game 
 where men have parts.  As such this
                                       sport is tame,
 making toy boats run random in a pool.
 Hobbyists do not care, though, 
                                       as a rule.
          THE MENTAL TRAVELLER
               
(top)––The Hobbyists, v.4
On Peasant Moon.  ‘The one which would efface the many’: there is an ancient and unresolved problem as to whether ultimately everything is a One or a Many.  The matter is to be pursued by looking into what has been written about monism and pluralism. To William James, who inclined towards the importance of multiplicity, the puzzle about whether everything is ultimately a One or a Many was ‘the most central of all philosophical problems’, holding that our view on this subject determines our thinking about many other philosophical problems.  I’m inclined to believe, without sufficient argument, I might add, that in a Zen-like way Nature is both.  In this poem I see the One-aspect as crushingly inimical towards the Many-aspect, and more especially towards the many tiny spurts of insignificant selfness, i.e. consciousness.
                                                       
(top
)
On The Red Poem.  The dolphin was sacred to Apollo, who in the Neitzschean interpretation stands for lucid detachment.  I don’t know if Rilke meant his Venus to be seeded and seeding (both sexes in one), or if to him the Apollonian preceded the Venereal—the Idea creating Creation.  But I’ve assumed here some such poetic logic or association of ideas.  A wash of ideas in the mind produces a statement.  This is obviously the case, though ‘wash’ and ‘mind’ are metaphors for what I for one do not yet well understand.   (top)
Oddness. Stillness. Industry.
 Across the land, reclaimed, a telescope
 makes out, this side, sheep.
                               Across the river
 no common magnifying picks a shape
 of any creature, although one gathers
 there must be shifts, and crews inside
                               those ships.

                     THE CLIFF HOUSE
                               
(top)––Depot, v.3
Corporeality.  Values.  Angst.
 The sun-moon reflection is
 a solid column, a pine log.  The pine
 the totem of this high-class household
 of incoherent anguish.

               THE WINDOWS
                
(top)––Edvard Munch, v.6
Fortitude.  Work.  Climate.
 After fractured stone, loose scree,
                                 tree-line shelters,
 gainly in hailstorms and in
                                 the branding heat,
 he paused, reviving his lungs,
 then strode on by cairns, by ruts; ...
                              PORT ISAAC
                           
(top)––Lunacy, pt.3
On The Spirit of the Air.  This followed the hurricane of 1987 which most people thought unprecedented, then weather experts informed us that winds on this scale struck about every three hundred years.  Nothing to do with global warming.  The tone, rhythm and rhyming are all jocular, of course, though the theme of us against Nature isn’t.
                                                          
(top)
On Grwyne Fawr Reservoir.  It reminded me of all the things in the universe which are never perceived or felt, that is, most of it.  When we think of all the many scales at which things could theoretically be examined, we know that what is seen, even if there are many sorts of intelligence out there, must be a truly negligible part of Nature.
                                   
         (top)
Senses.  Instance.  Rules.
 I’ll not forget
 you two hours old,
 all of us quitting the birth ward.

 Not a nurse
 in the night-wide corridor,
 all of us lumbered.
 …
 I’ll not forget
 your smell of now,
 our promise
bundle.
 …
 we were disobeying the rules!

  BERTRAM’S WAY
(top)Your Smell of Now, vv.1,2,6,8
Knowledge.  Nature.  Successors.
All knowledge is carnal, no cause lasts
sixty years, a sealed wine dries.  Nature,
they say your beauty is in my mind.
Come the next City they will dispense
with us entirely, both.

                 GLAMSIGHT
              
(top)––An Age Turns, ll.5–9
Insects.  Cruelty.  Study.
  I expose them from my black top hat:
  one at a time.  A sooty spider
  as convulsive as a rabbit, fat
  in woozy derricks, drunk on cider

   from bluebottles sipped on the sly.
  Here, children, under cover, put this
  in your jail jar.

     THE PAIN OF HELENA NAGEL
              (top)––The Conjurer, vv.2–3
On The Hobbyists.  Poetry isn’t a job or a vocation.  If it doesn’t earn one enough to live on it’s no job.  If a poet is not appointed by his or her nature to sacrifice all for the craft, it’s not a calling either.  True, a few seem to be called; and a few earn money from poetry, if we include activities like public readings, reviewing, contributing to workshops.  I’d like not to include other full-time work, even teaching and writing novels: these steal too much time.  But good and even great poets do have non-poetry jobs.  However, for my own part, earning a living has made me feel that poetry is a hobby, not employment.   (top) On Kosovo 1999.  ‘Never was there such slaughter in these Islands’—The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle concerning events after AD 449.  Earlier, the revenge of Boadicea (Boudicca) against the Romans had been better documented by the Roman historians Cornelius Tacitus and Dio Cassius.  The mythical tales around the Romano-British stand, possibly led by a Celtic Artorius (Arthur) against the invading English of the 6th century, became extensive and elaborate, and by the 12th century Arthur had become a national hero to the English themselves.  Hence my terrible but true assertion that ‘some genocides succeed’.   (top)
Females.  Wit.  Longing.
 Where are the girls of yesteryear
 Who rang me round from ear to ear?
 Where Moll Flanders, the clever dear,
 where Griselda’s uninjured air,
 where Florence (her swabs were
                                               regular),
 Nell Gwyn, soft-centred Marjorie,
 M. Curie and Eva Braun, oh where?
 You rode the footlights, caused a stir.
        What happens to electricity?
                                  ELEKTRA
                             
(top)––Envoi, v.2
Water.  Mourning.  Apocalypse.
 These half-lights may soon be over
 the sky is at last allowing its purple
 to glare on the horizon
 sails go by
 lick the wind make smacking noises
 an earth-light howls in the grass
 there have been many victims
 a dinghy chained by its nets
 the town in the marshes is fading into
                                                   itself
 nobody is there any more
 in the far sky a yellow bird
 is freeing its cry
 the boats are all heading that way

                     THE BLOOD RULES
                             
(top)––Light, pt.4
Herbals.  Betrayal.  Revenge.
Against catastrophe.  Take Wild
     Angelica, True-love, Summerlocks,
Sweethearts, Sungreen and Traveller’s
     Ease.  Chop fine,
hash with Kisses and Keys of Heaven,
     Lady-never-fade and Lily-royal.
Leave them to dry in memory’s sun,
     along with Chit-chat,
Confetti and Baby’s Rattle.  Add water
     and simmer with
Morning Glory, My Lady’s Lace,
     Bunny Rabbit and Sleepyhead.
Then, biting your lip, fling Spindlewood
     in, Love-links Snow Toss, Cuckold.
Tasting blood, mash in with White
     Robin and Remember-me.

     TA HES VISITS HER TOMB
                            
(top)––Charm, pt.1
On Love Story, pt. 3.  The fact that he calls her ‘dear dunce’ and a ‘vulgarian’, amazed that her ‘stupid eyes’ can blissfully illuminate the bed they wallow in, should not be ignored.  She is also a ‘little rich girl’ whom he patronises because she is more devoted to him than he to her.  In the scenarios for Parts 1 and 2, I offered the types of encounter which could have sourced those sections.  Here is a good point to dwell on the whole as one story.  Reflect on the history of love poetry: how much of it is about men lamenting that their love is not requited!  When we get to the 1960s here am I, depicting a woman not having her love returned.  And I’m being honest about the nature of male grazing.  To him, freebooting infidelity is amusing.

               
               (top)

 From Hypernotes.  (The numbers come from the book's endnotes.  They are not of course necessary in a hyperlinked web site)
(39) Inspired by Max Ernst’s The Forest.
(40) Inspired by Turner’s The Parting of Hero and Leander.
(41) To most eyes Solpugids (now Solifugae, formerly Solpugida), pronounced ‘sol-pyew-jids’ and also called Sun Spiders, Camel Spiders and Wind Scorpions, are swift, golden, desert arachnids, up to two inches long, with humped heads and big, hairy, large-fanged appendages.  If you’re curious about naming by categories and difference, take a look at the history of spider taxonomy.  It has not been easy.  The Athropoda phylum contains the Arachnid class, which contains the Araneida (spider) order (as well as the scorpion, mite, tick and solifuga—my solpugid—orders); one of the spider sub-orders is Labidognatha,  which contains the wolf spider Lycosidae family, which contains the Lycosa genus, which contains species with large bodies such as the tarantula (Lycosa tarentula).
(top)

Eroticism.  Redemption.  Myth.
Naked she stepped, tall and supple, her breasts like auriferous pears.  Her hair was a red Devonian loam muted to the oxide towers of Utah’s eroded canyons. It fell round her tilting haunches as if the notched spine, the spool of life, were the only truly erotic thing that must be concealed.  While in front her hair fell helically round the infinitely studiable, gritty areolae and dugs whose seminal milk was fuel more for the hard lips of the plagued and scrofulous than for hardy nurslings.

She was in fact overdue on Terror.

Two predominant life-forms, Gammas and Thetas, had for untold loops of their two suns grown to knowledge together.  The Gammas were like manx iguanas, but more erect, more handsome.  The Thetas were large ants, broad of thorax, metallic-fingered, the nether abdomen a small residual node.

                                                                      PULP POEMS
                                                                 
(top)––Wych Hazel, paras.11–13
Country.  Churches.  Schopenhauer.
Behind the barn, half-barn-size and
                                          half-seen
between yew crops, it stands low in its
                                          graves.  Stone cherubs, blind with time’s
                                          gangrene,
struggle to feed to bones earth still
                                          depraves with nervous roots and slimes
the Hampshire scene, the well-
                                          heeled lane
contenting beefy families still.
Over the cringing dead behind the times:
Up Marden church—the charged and
                                          empty Will.

          EROS AND THANATOS
    (top)––Genesis at Up Marden, v.1
On Clown.  The lakes which the infant clown balances like plates at the top of two wands are the lakes of good and evil.  The lake of good exists only in our dreams.  This, the ‘pellucid lake’ of utopias, is not in the awake world available except via myths and similar imaginings.  The soapy tarn of mundane evils is all too familiar.

On