3060 Chapters
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Medium 9781847770974

27 what Mr Gillies knew about his son

Gallas, John Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770684


Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF


Those definite proportions, those strong shapes,

Are yet among the randomness of things.

The oxen plough on as the tourist sleeps

And in that sleep dreams the cypress is

A shadow-thrower, and the dark it keeps

Is the pure essence of all cypresses.

So in that stalwart upward-turning tree,

That looking-cool black candle with no flame,

We can behold the whole of Tuscany.

Turn to your window as the small hours sound

A spell of time, and under pale stars claim

A score of cypresses shading the ground.

Cyphers of a language we don’t need

To learn. It is no lost Etruscan now

Decoded. It’s by signs that these trees plead.

They are steadfast, true until you stare.

Then many shadows throng and form and bow

In cypress-surfeited and Tuscan air.

In Renaissance paintings only these

Cypresses stay stark, definite and climb

One by one, a company of trees

Giving bonus landscapes whose fore-view

Is the attraction. In and out of time

Cypress and shadow step away from you.

Outside Greece

Out of the city quickly. There it is –

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Medium 9781574415933

"After All, What Is This Life Itself?"

Edited by Thomas Austenfeld UNT Press ePub

"After All, What Is This Life Itself?"

Dimiter Daphinoff

There is a painting in the Yale University Art Gallery that gives visual expression to some of the central concerns of early modern culture which the twentieth-century American writer, Katherine Anne Porter, takes up in her novel Ship of Fools. As with so many of Hieronymus Bosch’s works, the dating of The Allegory of Intemperance is uncertain, but it is generally assumed that it must have been completed some time between 1495 and 1500 as part of a triptych illustrating the Seven Deadly Sins.1 The famous companion panel, the Ship of Fools, is now in the Louvre in Paris. Given the immediate European popularity of Sebastian Brant’s Narrenschiff, published in 1494, Bosch is likely to have designed his triptych as a visual interpretation of Brant’s poem.

This essay, whose starting point is a striking verbal echo of Erasmus’ Praise of Folly in Katherine Anne Porter’s Ship of Fools, proposes to investigate the interrelated themes of death, immortality, and folly in Porter’s novel in the context of their treatment by Porter’s great predecessors Brant, Erasmus, and More. It aims to show that the uncompromising indictment of the fools on board Porter’s ship lacks the moral certainties that render the satires of Brant and Erasmus, in particular, effective through the alternatives they imply.

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Medium 9781847778512


Clarke, Gillian Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847771346

Romance Sonámbulo

Julith Jedamus Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770998


John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847772381

Severe Ebstein’s Anomaly

Rebecca Goss Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781885635273


Jack Christian Center for Literary Publishing ePub

In a yard of hollow trees
I could hear the echoes of smitten children.
I could hear their birdsong imitation.
I was wrapped up in a fraying blanket.
I was holstering a bad revolver.
I was adding cement to a pillow fort.
It was hard to see with the money over my eyes.
I had a spray can of paint and I was
hot on the trail of a bushwhacking tractor.
On my chest I wore a plastic star.
I’d set up camp on the cattle grate.
I was eulogizing a squirrel in a shoebox.
I was being lowered down in a pine box.
I was flying a balsawood airplane.
My mission was to gather the fog
that still hung between the rises in the meadow.
No one could see me in the magnolia.
I floated out on the silver water.
I shimmied up a yellow rope.
I did the snake dance for Saint Peter.
In the side mud, I lost my sandals.
I chose from a variety of cobweb dresses
in a gigantic forest. It was okay with me
to tend the fire inside the mountain forever.
Or, I was ready to eat dessert, after dessert, after dessert.
But I wanted to know how my friend Marc Kuykendall went.

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Medium 9781847770684

My Father’s Father

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

I looked at the huge sun and the blazing blue

Of the hot Summer sky,

I heard some children singing but could not see them,

I heard a blackbird singing with happiness.

I saw the house owner drive away in his car,

I dipped my hands in the fountain’s pool and then

Took one more look at that delightful house

And with scores of birdsong breaking upon my ears

I walked through the front door.

My Father’s Father

I never met my father’s father who

Died in his fifties when

I was very small, say one or two;

Later my mother said he was a man

Of gentleness whose presence filled a house

With comfort and with peace,

He never lost his temper or let loose

Disappointment. He put all at ease.

I wish I could remember all of this.

His wife was different.

She lived with us for years, would nag at us

And often spoiled my mother’s happiness.

She seldom was upset but one day I

Saw her at the door

And she was obviously about to cry

And run away. My father stopped her there.

But she adored his father, loved to have

Him staying with us. How

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Medium 9781885635136

Lives of Odin

Rob Schlegel The Center for Literary Publishing ePub

Who made me is not me
And eating fish
I watch the harbor swell to sea.

On the rich I wish a dozen welts
And a season of unrest
Upon the well-to-do.

Drinking water from the well
I steal the eyes of sleeping giants
And sell them from my pail.

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Medium 9781847770998

Storm in a Poppyfield

John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770684

Winter Wind

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781574415643

There's Something Quieter than Sleep

Stefanie Wortman University of Northern Texas PDF
Medium 9781847770998


John Gallas Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

Distance bids fair no more, few are well-met on the way, too often I journey matched with the foolish, the proud and the brute.

And often I have been caught by the bitter, the cheap and the false, who poisoned my footsore soul, and crushed the bright colours of life.

Though some companions were good, they faded slowly behind… and I, abandoned and tired, traipse the hard track alone!


Silence is everywhere; and nature sleeps and in the sky the far stars gently burn!

The sun fades slowly in the distant west, the clouds go, slow and patient, on their way.

O that my sickened soul might find some joy in such a soft, companionable light as now the evening star lets brightly fall!

Ah, why am I so dark, and full of pain?

Who can sweeten now my bitter heart?

I hope for nothing, think of nothing past; what is in my soul?… the whole world sleeps; no answer comes… only the glittered line of some fire-falling star before my eyes.

The Sway of Sounds

That song they sang a day ago will still not leave my mind; it fills me still with gloomy thoughts,

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Medium 9781847770684

Bird Sunrise in Winter

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

Plucking horizons off. Along my arms

The Winter wakens me.

My eyes are opened to a world’s alarms

Yet that refashioned sea

Meditates through all seizures, calms, it calms.

Bird Sunrise in Winter

Close eyes. Stay still and you can hear

Rising of sun, ferocious cries

Speaking of birth about your ear,

An eloquence of skies.

Winter perhaps but this is Spring

Wrung from cold earth. Harsh life asserts

Its pressure on the air, will sing

Until the singing hurts.

Open your eyes. The light is birds.

They bear the sun and clip it round.

Almost they break out into words

In this impulse of sound.

Let There Be

Let there be dark for us to contemplate.

Light draws the senses. O that seize of stars

Or even ember-comfort in a grate –

These blind us. Christ, teach us the Book of Hours

Which says ‘Be silent’ as we turn the page

And let the vigil come. Light overpowers.

Give us the night, the lonely privilege

Of offering our praise, a plea within

Enormous spaces lasting to the edge

Of almost dawn, and let the birds begin

To chip at sounds, set fire to tree and hedge.

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