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Friday, October 23, 2020

Robert Sheppard: The last two Empty Diary poems are published on Stride

 I have two ‘Empty Diaries’ published in Stride:

Empty Diary 2019, HERE  

and ‘Empty Diary 2020’, HERE!

They are quite special to me, since I see them as the last ‘Empty Diary’ poems. And it is nice that the project (if that’s what it was) should appear on Stride since Rupert Loydell was the publisher who first collected the poems in print, for which I am eternally grateful, as I am for these two. 

The original publication of Empty Diaries contained ‘Empty Diaries’ 1901-1990. (Exeter: Stride, 1998). Revised, they reappeared, reprinted in Complete Twentieth Century Blues, Cambridge: Salt Publishing, 2008, with additional poems, the ‘Empty Diaries’ 1991-2000, scattered throughout the text, not as a sequence (but as a ‘strand’): see here:

 There was also a Cyberpunk ‘Empty Diary 2055’ inserted into the batch and an ‘Empty Diary 1327’ in Petrarch 3, but they are special cases (clearly!).  Read about 'Empty Diary 2055' and see images by Patricia Farrell from its Ship of Fools publication  here

The whole sequence (written between about 1991 and 2020, with gaps) is now expired, along with my desire/need to write sonnets. (The English Strain has also demonstrated this ‘turn’).

Below you will find links to certain poems from the sequence (if that’s what it is) which have appeared online, but I will say a little about the project (if that’s what it is) first.

I remember the early stretch, 1901-90, conceived as writings out of photographs featuring women, as sheets of paper with the date at the top, which I would fill in a non-linear way. If I found a photograph with a woman in it for 1963 I would make notes on the ‘1963’ page and forget about them. Once I’d filled the sheets, I would work sequentially through the notes making poems from them, sometimes one a day throughout holidays from the FE college I worked at. That was the theory, and often the practice, but I inserted extras (quotations, other interfering materials) into the mix, and this account simplifies the process, as does memory!

From 1992 onwards, the poems were written in the years denoted, and subject to various processes. Though the focus on women and representations of women was important. I think you can see gender relations performed in the photographic representations of any time (particularly where men take the photos, but also – differently, crucially – where women do too). I think I was trying to write what I thought feminist poets with an innovative leaning should be writing. Remember, they were few and far between, when I began, though there were plenty of feminist poets writing in mainstream or popular modes. But any decisions about the sequence (like ‘the woman narrator is always a woman of 35’) were countermanded by some other part of it. It wasn’t theoretical, and little affected by feminist theory itself. I thought of it as the backbone of my long poem Twentieth Century Blues – and that it was finished with ‘Empty Diary 2000’, the final poem of the blues (dedicated to Barry MacSweeney). 

There is also a selection of them in my Selected Poems, the best ones I hope: History or Sleep from Shearsman. See here

In about 2014, I broke my rule that all the ‘strands’ of 
Twentieth Century Blues should end with that book, I decided to extend this one sequence into the current century: ‘Empty Diaries 2001-14’. A corona, note, 14 sonnets. (Again!) They are egregiously rude, using Google sculpting for the new century, rather than photographic ekphrasis.

Since 2015 I have been writing one a year (as were those written 1991-2000, by the way).  

‘Empty Diary 2019’ was ‘twittersculpted’, a tight bundle of what we find on a certain type of twitterfeed. I read it here. 


‘Empty Diary 2020’ had to deal with sex in the time of Corona (as ‘Empty Diary 1920’ touched on the Spanish Flu, see below), and did. In South Korea, they re-introduced stadium sports (empty terraces rather than empty diaries) by packing the seats with sex dolls. Imagine the groundman having to blow them all up! (An image I couldn’t get into the poem, by the way, as I similarly failed to use the line ‘Until then, sweetheart, enjoy his vanilla sundae,’ in ‘Empty Diary 2019’!). It is not google or twitter-sculpted, but written, consciously, as a sonnet (and it fits well with the sonnets of British Standards which were written around it.) I read it here. 

In addition to these two published this week, a group of earlier 'diaries' are online, and you can access them from the links below.

‘Empty Diary 1920’ may be read here:

The ‘Empty Diaries’ for 1905, 1936, 1954, 1968 may be read here:

(These I read for the Archive of the Now. A link is provided to the sound recordings of them.)

See 'Empty Diary 1956' 

'Empty Diary 1990' may be read here:

And here:

Empty Diary 1993 may be read here:

‘Empty Diary 2000’, the final poem in Twentieth Century Blues, may be read here (at
 the bottom of the page:

The first eight twenty-first century ‘Empty Diaries’ appeared online in The Literateur, now a dead site, unfortunately. But good news: the second six appeared, and still appear, in a wonderful edition of 
Blackbox ManifoldSee here.

This 2015 one has a touch of the bossa nova about it: 
Empty Diary 2015

The 2016 Empty Diary was published in the special 50th issue of Erbacce. See 

On BlazeVOX you may read ‘Empty Diary 2017’ and ‘Empty Diary 2018’ (scroll past the excerpts from ‘Elegiac Sonnets’):

 Burnt Journals is a completely different series.

Thursday, October 22, 2020

The first of my Curtal Song Nets from Junkets (more versions from John Keats) A non-sonnet about the sonnet!

I began work on what I’ve entitled British Standards in pre-Covid 2020, but post-Brexit Independence Day. Both of those ‘issues’ are important. The first section was finished late March, just after the (first) lockdown was belatedly announced. For this, I transposed poems from Wordsworth’s ‘Poems Dedicated to National Independence and Liberty’, and retitled them ‘Poems of National Independence’, and even more cheekily subtitled them, ‘liberties with Wordsworth’. I write about that sequence here:

Then followed ‘14 Standards’, the lockdown poems, and in turn, two additional ‘Double Standards’ about the Cum’s disgraceful lockdown infringements – I transposed a couple of Shelley’s sonnets – and his elitist refusal of apology and regret. See here for all 16 ‘standards’: . There are links to online publication of some of the poems too (as there are in many of these links). 

‘Tabitha and Thunderer’, interventions in the sonnet sequence ‘Sappho and Phaon’ by Mary Robinson, followed, and they may be read about (with video) here:

Now I have turned to Keats. I had some trouble getting going; you can read about that struggle here:

I’m thinking of calling these poems ‘Weird Syrup’. The subtitle ‘contrafacts and counterfactuals from Keats’ is the title of the first seven, now complete. These were written using couplets, 14 of them. Now I am at work on a very different grouping called ‘Curtal Song-Nets from Junkets’, and they are curtal sonnets (a weird but unsyrupy combination of the stanza developed from the sonnet by Keats for his Odes and from the curtal-sonnet invented by Hopkins). 

Here’s the first, one of those sonnets about sonnets. In fact, very little of my plans for this poem got in: so there’s no Michael Fabricant with his Andy Warhol-Boris Johnson hair rising up to challenge the deep state, that illuminati conspiracy about breeding babies underground to suck their blood for everlasting life. (People do believe this shit!) But really the English don’t need that: we had Jimmy Savile (I dealt with that in ‘Petrarch 3’ at the beginning of this lengthening project). Lengthening, maybe, but today’s poem is brief, to establish the curtal frame: alternating syllabic lines of 11/9, with a very stubby tail. The tails may take on Lewis Carroll sinuousness in later poems (I hope). This one is quite constrained (as is appropriate to its themes).   


                                                  The Definition of Rhyme in Visual Form 

If by dull rhymes our English must be chained


If rhyme’s a crime, it fetters Bo to Go, leaves

            the musty song-net a dungeon with

Whips and gags (and Covid-Secure handwash). So

            I’ve taken insoles from my slippers,

Put in my own, Oulipean constraints to

            curtail this slipping on dead leaves. Let’s

Inspect the liar and his new Tier 3 rules.

             I leave the house in my homemade mask

                        for contactless commerce with my boundless Muse.

            If Bo may not set the English free


                                    (they’ll tie themselves in nots


22nd October 2020

I have been helped by Zuccato, Edoardo. Petrarch in Romantic England. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008, a book I have read very quickly, having come across it reading (even more quickly) Translating Petrarch’s Poetry (which I am in and you can read about that here: ) (I talk about the Jimmy Savile sonnet there, too.)

I’ve made counterfactual use, as it were, of Keats before, in my volume of three short stories, The Only Life (Knives Forks and Spoons, 2011), in which I briefly describe Keats’ thoughts and actions on his eightieth birthday. Read about that here: . Buy it here:

British Standards is book three of my ‘English Strain’ Project. My ghostly production of Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’ turned the project (that will appear in the next Tears in the Fence), so that it could not turn back to the 14 line sonnet frame (see ).  I’d been looking at some poems of Robert Duncan, ‘derivative’ (his word) of Dante’s sonnets, which weren’t formally sonnets at all. (I mean they possessed none of the determinants of sonnethood; not even 14 lines.) That seemed like a necessary formal ‘volta’, or ‘turn’, as the sequence begins the long descent towards the runway. I have a determination (though not religiously so) to never write a 14 line poem, or a sonnet-approximate poem, again. I might use the half-pint sonnet, though. (More on that if I do; if I don’t, less.)

On this blog, as I’m guessing most visitors know, I’ve documented ‘The English Strain’ as work has progressed through to its third book. Here are two comprehensive posts to check out, one that looks at Book One, The English Strain here and another at Book Two, Bad Idea here . (The final part of Bad Idea is slightly different; called ‘Idea’s Mirror’, it’s described here: ).

 I am delighted to say that Book One and Book Two are due for publication soon, The English Strain from Shearsman, and Bad Idea from Knives Forks and Spoons. I have read the proofs of both books now. It looks as though book two might appear first.

There are also two sonnets of mine up on Stride today (and tomorrow). You can link to Stride from the blogroll. A later post will be about the sequence these two sonnets come from, Empty Diaries. Too much information? Just scroll through recent posts! 

Parts of Book One are still available in booklet form; look here for Petrarch 3 in its fold-out map format, and here for Hap:

There are a number of reviews of Hap, but here’s a new one: Prince, D.A. ‘Hap by Robert Sheppard’, on Sphinx: Poetry Pamphlet Reviews and Features: (2020)

I have written in detail about the writing of Petrarch 3 (see )

 As might be gathered from what I have said the third book, British Standards as a whole (not just the corona of ‘14 Standards’), aims to present transpositions of admired sonnets of the Romantic period, from William Bowles to Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Chronologically, they lie between those of Charlotte Smith, which I’ve already worked on here,

and those of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, that I’ve also worked on, both of them in the final parts of Book One:

I read this the other day, and it struck me as important to the misgivings I have now again about the socially referential aspects of this project, but then satire thrives on those: ‘There’s something about satire which means that it oozes outwards quicker than other modes, it forces the reader to draw the text into relation with the social totality quicker, it is ecological insofar as it is always profoundly embedded in a wide contextual web and twangs those threads repeatedly.’ Robert Kiely (I notice, that as a poet, he is published by Crater too) at

I’m posting these poems temporarily, so there is only ever one (or two) at a time on this blog, once a week at the moment. Jamie Toy wrote about this periodicity in relation to Brexit  here, in Versopolis :

Tuesday, September 29, 2020

'My' Quennets from A TRANSLATED MAN published in The Penguin Book of Oulipo

Rene Van Valckenborch (see here for his credentials: talks to Robert Sheppard, as part of an occasional series of interviews, conducted when he turns up 'out of nowhere', like Bob McCorkle in Peter Carey's My Life as a Fake on my doorstep. (Thank God I'm not allowed to invite him in, thinks Sheppard.) 

VV: I’m pleased to announce that I have some of my quennets published in The Penguin Book of Oulipo.

 RS: That’s great news! That means I’ve got some poems in there too!

 VV: Well, not quite. They only appear under my name.

 RS: What!? I invented you. You’re a fictional poet like Alvaro De Campos or Simon Armitage!

 VV: Well, that’s what they appear as in the book. Me and Perec and Roubaud. We’re like that! (Intimates his fingers on big stubby hand.)

 RS: But it was part of my fictional poets project. You were part one …

VV: … and inventor of part two, ‘the co-created fictional poets of the European Union of Imaginary Authors (EUOIA)’. That’s what it says in Twitters for a Lark


RS: But the project is mine, and all your poems are mine. Everybody knows that!

 VV: The readers of the Penguin Book won’t! (Chuckles.)

 RS: I remember now. Philip Terry phoned me and said that he wanted to publish your, my, quennets in the book, and he thought it would be funny to publish them under your name. I suppose that makes you the clinamen of the collection.

 VV: Quite! So you agreed then?

 RS: In a way, yes. Of course, I’m delighted. But I doubt whether he thought he’d conjured you up from the mists of time, like a bad dream. Do you still drink that de Koninck mud-water?

 VV: It’s revenge, my revenge. Because you and Philip Terry decided to write those antonymic translations of my quennets. You don’t know how negative that felt!

 RS: It was one of the highlights of Twitters for a Lark:

 VV: I noticed you read them together.


RS: I also read the original quennets (the ones in the anthology) at the Bluecoat and performed them as a poetry reading-mime within an invisible cube. Quite a novel act-event.

 VV: So you ripped off Marcel Marceau as well as me, then? AND, don’t forget, you appeared as me at the North Wales Poetry Festival, didn’t you?

RS: (Bashful.) As an Englishman, I couldn’t possibly comment on that circumstance.  (See ttps:// )

VV: It's my name on the poster, not yours. Now, at last, I’m vindicated with this, possibly my most out-there appearance to date. I feel myself stirring, if you’ll pardon the expression...

RS: … I don’t …

VV: ... cracking the old poetic bone. It’s been a long time. Ten years since my supposed ‘disappearance’.

RS: (Carefully) Where did you go, then? There was a rumour you were writing in German.

VV: Ha! That title The Salad in the Wardrobe was a joke, dummy.

RS: Good to hear it. But don’t get any ideas. Talking about coming back won’t get you into part three.

VV: Oh, there’s a part three planned, is there? How do you want me, darling? Flemish or Walloon?

RS: Cease your waffle, Belgian. I might work on Sophie Poppmeier, give her a little more reality. I might get her to collaborate with a mannequin. (See here for her elaborate biography: )

VV: I made her up too, though, remember?

RS: I said you did, though I cooked up her burlesque performances. On the other hand, I might include my new work on the talking mongoose of the Isle of Man. Or Ern Malley, even, now I’ve been singing in the Ern Malley Orchestra.

VV: But Malley’s a fake!

RS: So are you. Didn’t you recently tweet, ‘It’s not my death I’ve faked, but my whole life’?

VV: Yes. I was feeling bad that day. Veerle Baertens won’t answer my letters, emails or Tweets. But the arrival of The Penguin Book cheered me up no end. It meant, poetry-wise, at least, that I am Somebody.

RS: (Silence)


VV: Hello? Are you still there?

 RS: You mean, you’ve been writing to Veerle Baetens? Again?

The Penguin Book has just arrived this afternoon, a big fat book, with lots of Oulipean standards (Queneau, Perec, Roubaud, Mathews), but also lots of precursors (such as Stefan Themerson, for whom I have advocated) and post-Oulipeans, such as Tom Jenks (ditto). There is a helpful and alphabetical introduction by Philip Terry. The paperback is out in November.    

See here for my earliest encounter – one might say, pre-encounter – with the Oulipo:

 and here for my co-presence with Jacques Roubaud in Translating Petrarch’s Poetry , my article on writing my 'Oulipean' Petrarch 3. Here: .


Thursday, September 24, 2020

Robert Sheppard: 4 Poems from BAD IDEA published in M58

My project ‘The English Strain’ has progressed through to its third book, but only Books One and Two are complete, and, indeed, will be published soon.

I’m pleased to announce that four more of the poems from book two, BAD IDEA, have been published by Andy Taylor in his online magazine M58. Although visual poetries are a speciality for this magazine, it also carries fair amount of lexical poetry, such as these of mine. Read the poems here:

I write about Book Two, Bad Idea here . (The final part of Bad Idea called ‘Idea’s Mirror’ is described here: ) These links will point you towards other online excerpts from Bad Idea and details about its writing. Do read more.


In short, it is worth pointing out that Bad Idea are transpositions of sonnets from Michael Drayton’s 1619 sonnet sequence Idea (Idea is the woman addressed in the poems, like Petrarch’s Laura.) The poems take a head on approach to the follies of Brexit. (No wonder I’m still at work on Book Three!)

 In poem 13 here, I deal with the very issue of transposition (‘scribbling over’) as I call it. Poem 17 is a meditation on Time, transposed to be about the Brexit timetable. Poem 18 was a problematic poem (I mean Drayton’s original was, because it was a poem about … numbers!) In poem 20 the person ‘Rut’ appears from other poems, where he is identified as a Tory MP and sexual predator, whose identity was (still is?) unknown. All four are quite difficult poems, not the most obvious in the sequence, and deserve their platform together.  Here's Poem 17, read by me.


 I am delighted to say that Book Two is due for publication soon, Bad Idea from Knives Forks and Spoons. Here’s an early draft of the cover, constructed by Patricia Farrell.

Here is a comprehensive post on the sequences that constitute Book One, The English Strain here .

Friday, September 18, 2020

Robert Sheppard: SIX poems from British Standards published as part of the Poetry and Covid Project (links, context and videos)

I began work on the book I am thinking of calling British Standards in pre-Covid 2020, but post-Brexit 'Independence Day'. Both ‘issues’ are important, but Coronavirus (to give it its more ‘poetic’ name, given that a ring of sonnets, usually seven or fourteen, like mine, is called a corona) dominates at various points (from March to August 2020, really).

I discovered the Poetry and Covid Project (see here quite late in their deliveries (but that meant my poems were oven ready, unlike Brexit, to add to the mix). I never wanted to produce ‘Covid’ Poetry or ‘Lockdown Lyrics’ but that is, inevitably, what these early parts of British Standards, in part, because of their socio-political focus, turn out to be.

I am pleased to say that three of the former and three of the latter have been selected for the website and they may be read here: (They say it's 'Five Poems' but there are actually six.)

The first section of British Standards, containing these ‘covid’ poems, was completed late March. For this, I transposed poems from Wordsworth’s ‘Poems Dedicated to National Independence and Liberty’, and retitled them ‘Poems of National Independence’. I write about that sequence here:

Then followed ‘14 Standards’, the lockdown poems, which are arranged non-chronologically, something I’d pre-decided for formal reasons, but which reflected the timeless quality of lockdown quite well! I write about this section here: . There are links to online publication of other poems too, via these links. 

Here is a video of me reading (chanting) the Wordsworth transposition, ‘O Friend! I Know Not which way I must look’, written on 13th March.


Here is a video of me reading the first ‘Standard’, an overdub of ‘To the River Tweed’ by William Lisle Bowles, written on 27th April but revised on 13th May. 👍 👍👍👍


The Project, funded by the AHRC, and led at Plymouth University, by Anthony Caleshu, and led at Nottingham Trent, by Rory Waterman, (thanks, guys) asks the question, ‘What role is poetry playing during COVID-19?’ They explain:

Our project proposes the writing, exchange, publication and discussion of poetry as a significant cultural response, benefiting the wellbeing of people from around the world during the COVID-19 pandemic. We invite you to join the conversation, to submit your own poems or to nominate others which speak to the idea of contemporary and/or historical pandemics. 

Every day, we’ll be featuring a new poem from our inbox, and each month we’ll feature new writing from one of the world’s leading poets as they think through their predicaments, find in language a way to connect to others, and offer and seek solace and consolation.

Do have a look.

Also, as to my sense of what poetry can do, or not, see here, for an earlier sonnet from ‘National Grandeur’, and my commentary on this issue:

An unpublished poetics piece, ‘Shifting an Imaginary: Poetics in Anticipation’ deals with the question: ‘A compassionate world, inspired by the great sacrifices of NHS frontline staff? Or…’ 


 Where did you find that beer, Mark, during lockdown? 


Wednesday, September 16, 2020

Practice-Led piece on 'Petrarch 3' from The English Strain published in Translating Petrarch's Poetry (Legenda)

I have a ‘practice-led’ essay in this wondrous volume, Translating Petrarch's Poetry: L’Aura del Petrarca from the Quattrocento to the 21st Century, edited by Carole Birkan-Berz, Guillaume Coatalen and Thomas Vuong, and published now by Legenda ISBN: 978-1-781886-63-2 (hardback)  RRP £75, $99, €85. (Ouch! Try to get a library copy.)

 This is an expensive academic hardback, but a paperback is due next year, ISBN: 978-1-781886-64-9.

And, ISBN: 978-1-781886-65-6, JSTOR ebook, is available… 

See here for the Legenda/MHRA page for full details (and contents) of the book:

Ranging through five centuries of translations, adaptations and imitations of Petrarch, the father of Humanism, this transcultural, transdisciplinary study considers the echoes of this major figure, whose reach goes beyond borders, eras and literary genres to resonate singularly into our times and in our own resonating ears. 

I'm pleased to be share these pages with one of my literary heroes, Jacques Roubaud, and his ‘Elements of the History of the Sonnet from its Italian Sources: Formal Aspects’. His axoim 'All sonnets are sonnets by Petrarch' is provocative for my own 'sonnets'. 

The rest of the book is grand too. There are chapters on the French and Spanish reception of Petrarch (the latter involving a Portuguese working in Peru!), as well as on illustrations to, and musical settings of, the text. I enjoyed the chapter on brother and sister team of the de Scuderys, he who abridged the sonnets like Reader's Digest and she who novelised (and satirised) Petrarch's and Laura's married life. The French tried to claim him as ... well ... French. There's a good chapter on Tim Atkins and Emmanuel Hocquard, and another on Geoffrey Hill. I am expecting the book to inform the rest of my Petrarchan project, ‘The English Strain’, which I’ll explain after I say a little more about this book and my part in it.  

Tim Atkins’ piece on his Complete Petrarch is also here, which is appropriate, since I owe a debt to him (and Peter Hughes), though they must be exonerated from blame. Let me explain.

My ‘“Era il giorno ch’al sol si scoloraro”: A Derivative Dérive into/out of Petrarch’s Sonnet 3’, in Translating Petrarch's Poetry: L’Aura del Petrarca from the Quattrocento to the 21st Century, ed. by Carole Birkan-Berz, Guillaume Coatalen and Thomas Vuong, Transcript, 8 (Cambridge: Legenda, 2020), to give it its full citation, if that helps with locating it, is an account of my writing the transpositions (as I now think of them) of my Oulipo-inspired variations of a single Petrarch sonnet, after making a ‘translation’ of a Petrarch sonnet to help me write a chapter on Peter Hughes’ and Tim Atkins’ full jobs on the Man, in The Meaning of Form (see here

) and finding myself drawn into the wonderful world of versioning. (There are 7 of the 14 poems complete in the piece, too.) It was quite a new thing for me, and with it came a new tone. In the process, I discovered my inner Byron and Steve Bell!

As I say in the piece:

Petrarch was pretty clear that translation implied more than faithful reproduction of linguistic features. He warned, utilising a conventional metaphor for translation drawn from apiculture, ‘Take care … that the nectar does not remain in you in the same state as when you gathered it; bees would have no credit unless they transformed it into something different and better.’ This essay involves attempting to trace the transformations involved in the writing of fourteen variations on a ‘translation’ I made of the third sonnet of Petrarch, Petrarch 3, a partly conceptual, partly expressive, sonnet sequence, made under the sign of Oulipo, but informed by earlier poetic interests of my own, even early poems. It is at once impersonal and personal. It is, arguably, both hugely derivative and original, though that last judgement is beyond the scope of my poetics as I define it as a ‘speculative, writerly discourse’…As a poet-critic, I believe that my literary criticism must inform my poetics – the mercurial writerly conversation that I have with myself in my journal, with others in explicit poetics pieces, and perhaps in this piece I am writing now – but I do not know how particularly, hence my use of the verb ‘attempting’ above… The creative story I … tell is one that criss-crosses poetics, literary criticism, translation and creative writing itself, and may reveal something about modes of transformation and translational processes.

 Read my ‘original’ translation (of Petrarch’s third sonnet) and a Scouse doggie Christmas version here.

See here for my first encounters with Hughes and Atkins and with the single poem I produced. You can read here about the famous map-format publication of Petrarch 3 from Crater Press   here and here . It is still available.

The version in the style of Wayne Pratt (one of my ‘early poems’ referred to above, and which I write about in the article, and Atkins mentions in his) may be read here with a short video of me reading the sonnet, less than a minute:

The final poem in the sequence (and a farewell to Laura’s aura, or so I thought) may be read here:

Here’s a rare outtake: the semiotic fringe removed from one of the poems:


Here I am seen reading 'The First English Sonnet 1401', the joke being 'I' got there before Wyatt and Surrey (and Chaucer; dig my Neville Coghill impersonation)!

Read the first review of Petrarch 3  here. The second review of the publication may be read here:

Peter Riley considers it sternly here:

Petrarch 3 is, as I say above, separately available from Crater Press Press   here and here but it now forms the first part of a much longer set of transpositions of ‘English’ sonnets, ‘The English Strain’, the first book of which, The English Strain, will be published by Shearsman later this year.

The English Strain is described here and as is Book Two, Bad Idea here . Parts of Book Three, British Standards, upon which I am currently engaged, are covered here:

And here:

That one workaday translation of Petrarch set off something huge. From the essay itself you will find how randomly it was ‘chosen’. But I also keep coming back to it. My first 'Keats' transposition takes me back to Peter Hughes' project to spur on my own:

‘Take care … that the nectar does not remain in you in the same state as when you gathered it; bees would have no credit unless they transformed it into something different and better.’ Pet. 

Monday, September 14, 2020

A version of Keats' poem on Leigh Hunt's release from prison: Bo is committed to prison (counterfactual poem)

I’m thinking of calling the new poems ‘Weird Syrup: contrafacts and counterfactuals from Keats’, and 'Written on the Day that Mr Bo was Committed to Prison' is a counterfactual (though possibly predictive?): the arrest of Bo on charges of being a liar. It’s a version of Keats’ ‘Written on the Day that Mr Leigh Hunt Left Prison’, and I resisted a serious poem on actual political prisoners (in Belarus, for example) and reversed the polarities of the original. I utilise some of Hunt’s offending words which landed him in prison as a political journalist. So, Bo shares one profession with Hunt; another with the Prince Regent. Brandon Lewis, of course, said: "Yes, this does break international law in a very specific and limited way". We have a government of brazen outlaws. No, I’ll save that thought for another experiment. Oh yes, I find the increased use of the phrase ‘the 4 nations of the United Kingdom' galling. I can actually only count 3. Surely Northern Ireland is not a nation, either for Unionists (obviously) or Republicans (even more obviously). I've removed the poem now, but I thought I'd leave this manic phot and the new contrafactual Government slogan.



(22 September: Sorry, abandon that slogan!)