New Poem By Todd Swift

August 1982, Lac Bridgen

Last how memory won’t come,

Late how the trick doesn’t snap.

No click of it, some snag at back,

Come on doll, whistle again later.

There’s fur on the feathers,

Suntan on petals, rust in our soup

And a ladder by this window.

No one withers at the ledge

And a sedge shivers. Quit smoking

Or dig up the rubbish for a shortie.

It was hampering rain on the tin

Or ten ton hammering up the foil.

All the oil on the lake from engines

And loons honking out of season;

Not able to look that one up mother.

Boxes of Penguins; murder mostly

Wearing a girl’s clothes silently.

Shade-lust. Not to admit mice

But there they were, hopping

Beam to beam mad as veins.

Stone stabs the water with its white.

A black grave when the sun went off.

A lake is like a lid; it hides what it sees.

Not there anymore. Is thy cabin shut?

Can’t locate lyricism in this head.

The cure has killed off this impatient

If her patient was verse. What’s left

When form has declined to form?

You have to remember to create.

You have to create to form memories.

What I write down is not only happening

It is making me realise what I have missed.

June 2011

poem by Todd Swift

Comments

Poetry Pleases! said…

Dear Todd

Bob Dylan, eat your heart out!

Best wishes from Simon

Sun Jun 19, 07:53:00 pm 2011

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se. What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise

E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

Search This Blog