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

I t has been 2 weeks and 2 days since my mother died. Such is the nature of mourning. Every day counts. Each days brings us farther from the incalculable mystery of when they were still alive, and able to communicate with us. There are few key messages to give to a parent, when there are few minutes left. I love you, or I am sorry - or maybe, I forgive you - but always, finally, I love you, and thank you. I want to write more about my mother, but she was very private. I will say, now, as Halloween nears - she was the kind of mother who would sew elaborate costumes for my brother and me. I once went as Kanga with Roo in my pocket (in fact of course my Roo was a Kanga doll). My mother was born in the Eastern Townships , Quebec, Canada, in a rural setting, though her parents were teachers. She had 3 sisters and one brother, and was the eldest sibling, which early on established her take charge approach. She spent some summers on the Gaspe peninsula, in Port Daniel, where her uncle and aun...

David Lynch has died. Perhaps the last time an American death of a cultural icon was so massive was the loss of Warhol . This blog is of the opinion that David Lynch was probably the most significant global artist of the past 45 years; perhaps only David Bowie  approaches his immense contribution to multiple senses of art forms and identity in this period, and had such ubiquitous impact. But Lynch, more even than Warhol or Bowie, or any other film-maker of the period, was consistently and openly also an artist, musician, painter, and writer/visionary. To call him a "surrealist" barely does him justice, and is in many ways misleading. Lynch's transgressive visions were sometimes dreamlike, but controlled evacuations from the underbelly of the conscious/unconscious divide in the psyche/soul - demonic expulsions, like solar flares, or toxins released in the bloodstream; his dreams are never entirely merely random or absurd (like Dylan Thomas serving string in tea cups). Wh...

Despite, and because of, our debates and differences of opinion, I had great fondness and respect for Roddy Lumsden , the poetic genius, who has died. When I first moved to London, we worked on editing each other's poems for a few months; he several times read for the Oxfam series and other events I hosted, and I read with him on many occasions. One always could learn from Roddy, he knew more about everything than anyone else. I am very shocked and saddened by this sudden news, and all I have to say is here: https://store.eyewearpublishing.com/blogs/news/major-scottish-poet-roddy-lumsden-has-died You should seek out his poetry collections, and his poems online, you will discover one of the funniest, and most clever poets ever born in Scotland. His death is a sobering reminder that poets in this angry age need to remember to love and support one another, and seek less to divide, and more to join, the common enterprise of creating poems of long-lasting value to others.

HE BROUGHT POST-WAR AMERICAN POETRY TO BRITAIN IN A VITAL WAY British poet of genius and cultural significance, Tom Raworth has died after a long and protracted illness, aged 78. Writer, artist, teacher, and publisher Tom Raworth was born in South London and attended the University of Essex. In 1970, he earned an MA in the theory and practice of literary translation. As founder of Matrix Press and co-founder of Goliard Press, Raworth was instrumental in bringing an entire tradition of American poetry to English readers. Promoting the work of a number of poets associated with the Black Mountain School, including Edward Dorn, Robert Creeley , and Charles Olson , Raworth also published the poetry of Elaine Feinstein, Aram Saroyan, Anselm Hollo , and Zoltan Farkas .   Raworth’s own work has also been identified with the Black Mountain School. He wrote over 40 collections of poetry, among them The Relation Ship (1969), winner of the Alice Hunt Bartlett Prize, Eternal Se...

LOUIS DUDEK WAS COHEN'S EARLY MENTOR, AND MY FRIEND There was never a time when I did not know about Leonard Cohen .  I was born in 1966, and he had been famous (in Canada) as one of our best poets even before then; by 1967, he was world-famous, arguably Canada's most-beloved figure ever on the world stage, and he kept on being so, up until his death yesterday. My mother was a huge fan, and his music and poetry (less so his prose) was always in my childhood. Since I was born in Montreal (as was he), and shared his passion for debating and writing (less so, strumming guitars), he was never far from my thought - indeed, as a teenager trying to write poetry, and wondering if such a role was feasible for a Montrealer, Cohen showed the way (along with Irving Layton , and Louis Dudek , his mentors, later both mine as well). Mostly, like most Canadian poets, my affections were of the love-hate kind. He was the absentee father, who rarely did or said anything to promote younger ...

Igor Isakovski, one of the leading Macedonian poets of the 21st century Sad news, the energetic poet, novelist, publisher, editor, book designer, translator and friend to many poets globally, Igor Isakovski , has died suddenly of a heart attack, the other day. I include a poem from his recent collection below (translated into English), a photo of the poet, and a recent biographic note.  He had translated my work, and published it in Macedonian.   IGOR ISAKOVSKI. Born 19.09.1970, in Skopje, Macedonia. Died 15.12.2014, in Skopje, Macedonia. He took a BA in World and Comparative Literature, Sts. Cyril and Methodius University, Skopje, Macedonia. MA in Gender and Culture, CEU, Budapest, Hungary. He was completing doctoral studies at the Sts. Cyril and Methodius University. He was founder and director of the  Cultural Institution Blesok  where he worked as editor-in-chief since 1998. Published books:  Letters  (1991, novel),  Black Sun ...

Sad news. The British poet Susan Grindley (pictured) has died of cancer, on Thursday. She was the author of New Reader , a pamphlet from Rack Press, and had poems in many magazines, anthologies and online journals, including Nthposition , when I was editor.  Susan was a regular presence for many years on the London poetry scene, where she read, and attended many events in support of others. Susan was born in Essex but lived most of her life in Hackney. She was shortlisted for the Larkin and West Riding Poetry Prize and the Edwin Morgan International Poetry Prize and read at literary festivals including the Edinburgh Book Festival and the Ledbury Poetry Festival. A full collection remains to appear, but I hope that in time one can be compiled and readied for a press. She was a lovely person and will be much missed. Zonal Pelargoniums Call them geraniums, everybody does, these are the ones with round, frilled leaves marked like targets, creased like fans. I found ...

DANNIE ABSE by Wynn Wheldon I met Dannie Abse when I was very young.  He and his wife Joan were always guests at my parents’ Christmas Party.  Dad and Dannie had met at a reception given for an American war correspondent.  Dannie was just about to leave when my father, who was a stranger to Dannie, called over, “You Welsh Jew! Let me take you out to lunch”.  They went to a posh restaurant, where Dad ordered an avocado for Dannie, as he had never had one before. Dannie told me this story on three separate occasions, always with a chuckle. And Joan, it turned out, had been at LSE at around the same time as my mother.  So there were Connections. Invariably, they would bring a book to the party, one of Joan’s anthologies or Dannie’s latest novel, collection or memoir.  He was spry and amused and intelligent and small and handsome; his characteristic demeanour was a kind of wry cheerfulness. He was, after all, a lifelong socialist. He was also curious...

Sad news.  The great, eccentric television astronomer, Sir Patrick Moore , has died.  No one who ever saw his shows could forget how he explained the night skies, which will seem a little dimmer in his absence. I find his personal life story quite moving, I sh ould add.  His fiancee was killed during the Second World War, and he never married or had a family, as a consequence, saying that she had been the only one for him.  A pacif ist who loved cats, he had a suspicion of European entanglement derived from the wa r years; and, though never officially educated as an a stron om er was widely recognised as one of the major figures in his field in our time .  His is an example of stoic amate urism and enthusiasm gone right - where a person loved something so much they cou ld s hare it with the world. Man of the skies  

Sad news.  The world's greatest bookshop owner, and one of the great expats of all time, big-hearted, eccentric George Whitman , of kilometre zero's Shakespeare & Company, has died, at the lovely age of 98.  I lived in Paris for a few years (2001-2003) and, like thousands of other young writers, knew his generosity.  My Whitman anecdote gives the measure of the man.  One day I came in and introduced myself, in 2002 or so, as a young poet.  Whitman invited me to "a small reading" later that afternoon.  Instead, imagine my surprise when I was asked to open (with a generous ten minutes or so) for Lawrence Ferlinghetti , to an audience of hundreds outside the shop, crowding the pavements.  In the audience was none other than George Plimpton , who I spoke with after.  One of the great memories of my life, and entirely thanks to the splendid wide decency and helpfullness of Whitman, who embodied some of the spirit of his namesake, and enacted al...

Sad news, the British francophile writer, film critic and wit, Gilbert Adair , has died.  The Bertolucci film The Dreamers , was based on his novel.

Sad news.  The American poet Ruth Stone , who reached a wider audience later in life, has died.

Sad news.  Syd Cain , the art designer behind Q's gadgets for the Bond films, and Blofeld's alpine HQ in On Her Majesty's Secret Service (one of the best of the series), has died.  He also worked with Kubrick and Hitchcock, among others.

Sad news.  The great British poet and translator of poetry, Christopher Logue , has died.

Sad news.   Christa Wolf , one of Germany's major post-war writers, has died.

Sad news.  British poet Peter Reading died recently.  His obituary appears today in several papers, including the Telegraph .

In my Canadian adolescence, 60 Minutes was a TV event.  These days very few things are much-watch, at the time, but this stopwatched event was such a thing, and the best of it was the lively and often pugnacious little segments that Andy Rooney ended each episode with.  It is a sad time when Rooney is no longer with us to cock a wry eye at the world and its foibles.

Quebec writer Robert Smith contributed this obituary notice: Angéline Neveu (1946-2011), a poet and performer, had been active since the sixties in France. She had been one of the eleven ''Enragés'' students at the Université de Nanterre, who had instigated the May 1968 revolution in France, which had culminated in a general strike. She was involved in the Situationniste movement. This was followed by a period during which texts, music and images were entwined through the creation of books, the delivery of public readings and performances, including in the Polyphonix festivals in Europe, in New York City in 1979 and in Quebec City in 1990, as well as numerous reading performances at the Centre Georges-Pompidou, at the Musée national d’art moderne in Paris and performance events organized by Jean Dupuy in New York City in the loft of Georges Maciunas, the founder of Fluxus. From 1979 to 1984, she created and managed the “Unfinitude” colle...

September 9th, tomorrow, is the 6th anniversary of my father's death, from a blood-clot in hospital, while recovering from surgery on his brain for cancer.  He was a kind, gentle, witty man, very shy, insecure, nervous.  But he was proud of his rise from a working-class Irish-Canadian background to become the youngest director of admissions at a North American university, in the late 60s, after leaving behind a promising music career as a recording artist with Decca and London records.  He did an excellent job at Sir George Williams, later Concordia, university.  He put students first.  He had a great voice, loved to sing, play baseball, swim, and was good with animals.  He was very loyal to his friends, compassionate with students, and protective of his family.  Sadly, he suffered from anxiety and depression, which he tried to deal with by drinking too much.  However, after a difficult period in his Forties, and after a mild stroke, he sorted out...

Sad news.   Lucian Freud , one of the greats of British post-war painting, has died, at the age of 88.  I had the pleasure to see him several times as he dined at his table at The Wolseley.  Yesterday, according to The Guardian , that table was draped in a black cloth with a single candle on it.  Freud, whose paintings sold for tens of millions, was famously linked to Sigmund Freud , his grand-father.  I recall studying his work in art history class back at college in Montreal; we were all taken aback by and impressed with his attention to genitals, and to the gross realities of human fleshiness.  Later, in London, I looked into his late self-portrait and recognized in its slashes of dark colours genius, and dark self-reflection.  Genius can be complicated, strange, ugly, and attractive, all at once, in a compelling way; the best art usually is.  I am not sure Freud was a person you'd want to meet unless you were a beautiful woman, or someone t...