Tomorrow is a hugely exciting day for me. For three reasons.
1) The British Ceramics Biennial opens in Stoke-on-Trent, with my newly installed stoc sequence. More on this tomorrow…
3) Poetry London launches their autumn issue, with a first, small appearance from me.
This autumn issue of Poetry London, edited by Ahren Warner, is unbelievable. Take a look at the contents page. I would list the poets here, but it would make my blog look like the inside lid of a teenage pencil case. I ♥, I ♥, I ♥…
That this issue is so jampacked and that my small offering has slipped in is enough.
That this small slip of a poem is ‘Char’, an extract from my stoc sequence, being launched on the same day, at the same time over in Stoke, is more than enough.
That my mentioning Poetry London to my dad revealed that he has a copy of another, older, stranger Poetry London from 1979 is almost too much.
It’s a rare occasion when my dad and I have something in common and there were many years when we didn’t see each other very often, so it’s a precious thing, this fragile connection between my copy of Poetry London and his copy of a different magazine with the same name from a different time belonging to the same and different dad. It’s just another coincidence, I guess – but it’s a lovely one.
Back when my dad was (not) in the habit of buying poetry magazines, he was living in London, playing guitar in a punk band. Look at him. What a badass. Here’s one of his old tunes.
These days, he plays mandolin and goes fishing. Then though, he was all about neckerchiefs and posing with poetry magazines, complete with an Allen Ginsberg flexi disc, still unplayed.
But hey – during his stint in the band, he roped in Sting to play bass that one time and they were a hit with John Peel, or so the dad stories go. So I guess the poetry prop must have worked for him. Let’s see if it has any luck for me. Keep the coincidences coming.