By Tom Raworth
Poet Tom Raworth has remained steadfastly self reliant of literary models, pursuits, and cliques all through a poetic occupation spanning 50 years. As When is the 1st collection of Raworth’s writing to deal with the entire scope and diversity of his paintings, from the 1st poem he ever shared with someone outdoors his family members, “You have been donning Blue,” to his such a lot lately released poem, “Surfing the Permafrost via Methane Flares.” the gathering comprises prose paintings and notational items that have been deliberately passed over of his Collected Poems, in addition to poems that have been in basic terms released in small magazines or as ephemeral playing cards and broadsides. a few items seem in right, definitive models for the 1st time.
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Extra resources for As When: A Selection
Through the window we watched the frigate’s orange raft drifting to shore i mean if you’re taking that attitude we rode in a train watching the dog move noise of a bicycle freewheeling downhill 2 WAITING she made it a noise entering the room as he sat holding a cigarette grey smoke & blue he was too sound of children moving so much outside he wrote small she spoke he cut a pack of tarot cards page of (shall we go she said) pentacles re versed meaning prodigality dissipation liberality un favourable news 3 BUT I DON’ LOVE but i don’ love you she said there were drops of sweat on the receiver warm sun the sky on the horizon turquoise a faint haze red trains crossed the bridge they played war forecast music as they walked down the hill the brown girls passed driving their own cars the tree had not been climbed they disturbed the dirt it grew like a ladder from below the sound of water on the leaves but she said you stroked her hair she said she is like a cow you are so obvious the gardens of the houses go down to the stream there are a few allotments the path was overgrown they walked single file under the north circular road the tunnel chalk inscriptions latest dated 1958 no sound from the cars overhead 4 the lake green dark red flowers scum no current a red ball stationary in the middle 5 MORNING she came in laughing his shit’s blue and red today those wax crayons he ate last night you know he said eating the cake the first thing nurses learn is how to get rid of an erection say you get one whilst they’re shaving you, they give it a knock like this, he flicked his hand and waved it down she screamed, the baby stood in the doorway carrying the cat in the cat’s mouth a bird fluttered THREE smell of shit when i lift him he knocks the book from my hand i hold him up she pulls at my leg the other comes in with a book he gives me his book picks up my book she pulls at his arm the other is pulling my hair i put him down he pulls at my leg she has taken my book from him and gives it to me i give him his book give her an apple touch the other’s hair and open the door they go down the hall all carrying something 6 THE BLOWN AGENT her blue gown is taking the smoke the dust on the hem of her blue gown blue gown—that’s nice in the low corridors of the old school and her blue gown, poor dog all those years the cake had lasted we collected dust in a matchbook that smell immobile the petals the horizon the the lonely in the radio and no room to click my fingers over my head moon moon on a bicycle, after the car had left, her blue gown, going AH THE POETRY OF MISS PARROT’S FEET DEMONSTRATING THE TANGO we were leaving on a journey by slow aeroplane that was the weapon you had picked for our duel flying above a gigantic playing-card (the five of spades) from one corner to the other—our goal the gilt edge this is a pretense (i quote your note), a cut, take the short way because justice is what the victim of law knows is right your stockings rasped in the silence, the engine stopped and i wished it had been a ten of clubs with more landing space it was a game in the air, flock wallpaper in the cockpit outside feathers grew from metal, flapped, and we began to climb from the mechanical smoothness to the motion of a howdah i picked up the card, removed my goggles, and began to dance 7 HOT DAY AT THE RACES in the bramble bush shelley slowly eats a lark’s heart we’ve had quite a bit of rain since you were here last raw silk goes on soft ground (result of looking in the form book) two foggy dell seven to two three ran crouched, the blood drips on his knees and horses pass shelley knows where the rails end did i tell you about the blinkered runners?
No, it’s not a bit like home. 9 YOU’VE RUINED MY EVENING/YOU’VE RUINED MY LIFE i would be eight people and then the difficulties vanish only as one i contain the complications in a warm house roofed with the rib-cage of an elephant i pass my grey mornings re-running the reels and the images are the same but the emphasis shifts the actors bow gently to me and i envy them their repeated parts, their constant presence in that world i would be eight people each inhabiting the others’ dreams walking through corridors of glass framed pages telling each other the final lines of letters picking fruit in one dream and storing it in another only as one i contain the complications and the images are the same, their constant presence in that world the actors bow gently to each other and envy my grey mornings i would be eight people with the rib-cage of an elephant picking fruit in a warm house above actors bowing re-running the reels of my presence in this world the difficulties vanish and the images are the same eight people, glass corridors, page lines repeated inhabiting grey mornings roofed with my complications only as one walking gently storing my dream 10 NOW THE PINK STRIPES now the pink stripes, the books, the clothes you wear in the eaves of houses i ask whose land it is an orange the size of a melon rolling slowly across the field where i sit at the centre in an upright coffin of five panes of glass there is no air the sun shines and under me you’ve planted a quick growing cactus COLLAPSIBLE behind the calm famous faces knowledge of what crimes?
45 am. June 6th. 06 pm. June 10th. 25 pm. June 10th.
As When: A Selection by Tom Raworth