Typos - beauty mark or cancer on the face of our poetry collections? What poet does not turn to their poem, their bio, in a journal, to see if it has been blighted? What book, no matter how carefully screened, vetted, pruned, pried at, inspected, and glowered upon, does not seem to smuggle in a typo, or two? Like bedbugs - where do they come from? Something there is in language that does not love perfection - or at least, in type-setting. Even with a slew of eyes on the text, they come in, unwanted visitors, stowaways, thieves of our ideals, mocking us, belittling the book. Or, should they be read as delightful imps, welcome scallywags? Reminders of our flaws, modest interlopers, gadflies of marring benevolence? Either way, what you print is not always what you get, or what you wanted is not always what's inscribed. Eyewear is riddled with them, so is the wider world. Let's dunce.
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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The other reason, I'm afraid, is that too many poets and editors these days don't know "it's" from "its", and similar potential errors, in the first place...
The surprising thing is how often a typo actually improves a poem! I agree with Sheenagh. I think it's (correct, Sheenagh?) sometimes the subconscious mind endeavouring to have the last word.
Best wishes from Simon