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Medium 9781847770684

World I have Not Made

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

World I have Not Made

I have sometimes thought how it would have been if I had had to create the whole thing myself – my life certainly but also something else;

I mean a world which I could inhabit freely, ideas, objects, everything prepared; not ideas simply as Plato knew them, shadows of shadows, but more like furniture, something to move around and live in, something I had made. But still there would be all that I hadn’t made – animals, stars, tides tugging against me, moon uncaring, and the trying to love without reciprocity.

All this is here still. It is hard, hard, even with free faith outlooking boundaries, to come to terms with obvious suffering.

I live in a world I have not created inward or outward. There is a sweetness in willing surrender: I trail my ideas behind great truths. My ideas are like shadows and sometimes I consider how it would have been to create a credo, objects, ideas and then to live with them. I can understand when tides most tug and the moon is remote and the trapped wild beast is one with its shadow, how even great faith leaves room for abysses and the taut mind turns to its own requirings.

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Medium 9781574415049


Matt Miller University of North Texas Press PDF


Whenever a nor’easter dumped snow all night on top of town there’d be no one in the streets except slow groaning plows and us, in pick ups, low-gearing over uncleared roads and lots, low-lifed cases of beer sliding in the bed between our boots, as we watched whosever turn it was get dragged through drifts from fifty feet of rope tied around the trailer hitch. Chancing speed bumps and pot holes, you’d hold on as the truck sped and turned, as your body rolled and skipped along streets no longer nameable. Legs flailed cold and soggy. Teeth gritted a breath above asphalt while your buddies hooted in the back of the truck, icy cans in their gloved hands, lips swollen with road rash and Skoal. The driver, always next to go, would open it up to buck you. He’d hard cut the wheel, swinging you from one buried curb to another. Or he’d just crush down on the brakes. You’d slide toward slack and the shine of tail lights and fender, skidding almost under the black rusted axles and manifolds, rolling away in time from a skull pop of tires all because boys in winter won’t suffer death. Then the steel hearted tug as the truck started up

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Medium 9781847770998

Going Too

John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

Heading for Caracalla’s Hotbaths – an old family dad, workless, who furious Frascati has washed out to a goof-animal, happy, with the old-iron chassis of his smashed, bitsied body rattling: his clothes-sack holding a half-hunched back, two scab-jammed thighs and flapping pants under his jacket pockets loaded with stale paper bags. The face laughs; the jaws grate, their bones chawing words; he talks to himself, stops, rolls some old fag-end, a carcass where all youth has stayed, flowering, like a bonfire in a box or bowl: they do not die who were not ever born.

Heading for Caracalla’s Hotbaths…

Going Too

I’m heading for Caracalla’s Hotbaths too – thinking – with my old, with my breathtaking licence to think…

(to think there’s still a god in me, straying, drained, green, but its voice human, human, nearly a song). Oh to break out of Misery Jail!

To be out of all this nervy fear that makes the age-old nights so breathtaking!

There’s something to share there with men who know disquiet, and men who don’t: men are ordinary wanters.

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Medium 9781847770998

Mr Snail

John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770998


John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847772268

So Much for Irony

Ward, David C. Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770684

XXIX (‘The first day I beheld so much unique’)

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF


The living portion of my love is not

My heart; the love with which I love has no

Heart, for in human hearts things mean and low

Always exist, in impulse or in thought.

Love which came, like the soul, from God’s own hands

Made me without eyes, made you full of light;

That light cannot be seen in what death ends –

The mortal part which hurts me with delight.

Just as from fire the heat cannot be parted,

Neither can I be separated from

That Beauty in whose likeness she is made.

Ardent, I run to joys which cannot fade,

That paradise where your own beauty started,

Eternal loveliness from which you come.


The first day I beheld so much unique

Beauty, I trusted that I might be one

Who, like the eagle soaring to the sun,

Finds such a radiance makes its own eyes weak.

The fault was mine; I knew that I had failed,

Since he who follows angels and lacks wings

Is sowing seed on stone, his words are whirled

Away by wind; God takes his questionings.

My heart will not support me when I know

So great a beauty’s near; my eyes grow blind

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Medium 9781847772381


Rebecca Goss Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847779731


Rossetti, Christina Carcanet Press Ltd. ePub

Yes, I too could face death and never shrink.

    But it is harder to bear hated life;

    To strive with hands and knees weary of strife;

To drag the heavy chain whose every link

Galls to the bone; to stand upon the brink

    Of the deep grave, nor drowse tho’ it be rife

    With sleep; to hold with steady hand the knife

Nor strike home:–this is courage, as I think.

Surely to suffer is more than to do.

    To do is quickly done: to suffer is

        Longer and fuller of heart-sicknesses.

    Each day’s experience testifies of this.

Good deeds are many, but good lives are few:

        Thousands taste the full cup; who drains the lees?

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Medium 9781847779731


Rossetti, Christina Carcanet Press Ltd. ePub

I dreamed and did not seek: to-day I seek

       Who can no longer dream;

But now am all behindhand, waxen weak,

    And dazed amid so many things that gleam

       Yet are not what they seem.

I dreamed and did not work: to-day I work,

       Kept wide awake by care

And loss, and perils dimly guessed to lurk;

    I work and reap not, while my life goes bare

       And void in wintry air.

I hope indeed; but hope itself is fear

       Viewed on the sunny side;

I hope and disregard the world that’s here,

    The prizes drawn, the sweet things that betide;

       I hope, and I abide.

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Medium 9781847771322

Sie Kommt

Burt, Dan Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770998


John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781574414479

Worry Bone

Gibson Fay-LeBlanc University of North Texas Press PDF
Medium 9781847770684

For Love

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847771322

Uphill to the Right

Burt, Dan Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

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