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Biographical note: Simon Smith, born 1961 in Redruth, Cornwall, brought up on the borders of Hertfordshire and Essex. Educated at the University of Kent at Canterbury, he lived in Pennsylvania from 1984–1986 where he threw in an academic career for one in librarianship. He has worked at the Poetry Library in London since 1991, and became Librarian in 2003. He edited GRIllE (1991–1993) and was poetry editor of Angel Exhaust (1998–1999). He is one of the judges for the National Poetry Competition 2004 along with Elaine Feinstein, Ciaran Carson and chair Denis MacShane, the Minister for Europe.
BIC Basic
EAN13: 9781844710270 ISBN-10: 1844710270 ISBN-13: 9781844710270 Author: Simon Smith Title: Reverdy Road Series: Salt Modern Poets Product class: BC Language: eng Audience: General/trade BIC subject category: CTCH1 Publisher: Salt Publishing Pub date: 01-Sep-03 Extent: 252pp Height: 216 mm Width: 140 mm Thickness: 14 mm Weight: 378 gms Supplier: Gardners Books Supplier: Ingram Book Group Supplier: Inbooks (James Bennett) Availability: IP Price: GBP 13.99 Price: USD 20.95 Rights: World
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description/annotation: This book works along a gauge, a valency, between language as communication of information, to language as matter, as a thing. The book focusses on the processes of language – sound, rhythm, shape and design. Meaning has receded behind the material and play of language.
Main description: Reverdy Road is a book of poems celebrating the aleatory. They are various responses to their now. Each poem is an open gift, a happy thing in the world – there’s plenty of time to be depressed later on. The book is in three parts divided by treatment rather than matter. But it is the matter of words that is the very subject, and how they signify that matters most. There is no discernable progress, more a marking of time, place, gesture, answering questions through their own musculature. They have embarked on no journey, but they seem to be heading to another destination from a location we can’t know. We are getting there, however. Like Orpheus there is no looking back. Making the world a better place is their business and purpose, they are friendly and want to talk to you. They won’t hurt. They ask very different questions from journalists, but they love journalists. The body’s place is the question they ask and answer they are giving – how do bodies move and remove themselves. The engine is a black Moleskine notebook. Where they enter life. As Smith says, “All my life they lived under my skin, now they enter your circulation.”
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Table of contents: I Reverdy Road A Short Poem about Gossip Hair’s Breadth Right here, Right now Could Could Keep Should Mythology Autobiographical Speedy A.N. Other Which is Which The Magician, Jack Spicer Ten to 10 Sick Note II Household Gods Asking for It Sweetie Entry Takes the Biscuit Streetlight Backdrop Driven The Answer Cadenza Twin Antennae Gift Broad Daylight Feathers Ideogram The Dark Biog Through and Through [CUT] Blue Reappearance Duet Clockwork Kids Mood Indigo The Rules Frank O’Hara Lives of the Painters On Paper Crossroads Wobble South Circular Stealth Fighter Limelight Hotel Lounge Absence No Fault Rainer Maria Rilke Spangles History Lesson Lines for Feminism Midge Night Night Autobiography Rings a Bell Sentimental Education Eden’s Garden Adam and Eve Mask Falling Illogical Neatly Penny Black Toys Equal Footing A Good Job Squeaky Clean The Book of Anthology Verse Song and Dance Man Happy Close Receiver Hazard Assessment Form Futures Orphée Aether Football On the Beach Twin Towers Bingo Rope Trick Statue of Liberty Thank God Theorem Look Like the Man on the Moon Angel Code “B” Side The Dots Diamond Charm Each Work Working Order Symbol The Plot Silver Thought Bubble Sitting Targets Dead Heads Jagged Figures Dead Flowers Nearly Half Halfway Through Orpheus Blue Rider One Last Song To Chance Figure Snakes and Ladders Multiple Choice Questions South-North Jack Spicer III Xenia Not You The Little Notebook Bathroom Light Bulb Minutiae Words for “Fishy” The Day it all Came Clear Ajar Monday Afternoon Four of Clubs Olson Poem Starting with a “How” Funny, That No Let Up A Little Book of Light Fence More Sense Shadow Cover Over Ecology Moving Parts Odd Eyes Queue Second Hand One Moving One Still Me You Adding Machine Interview Sea-bed Mercury Ball Thick Leg Cocktails Blue Curtains Veer Permanent Marker The Chicken Hand Held White Sky Permanent Wave Blot Wonky Black Notes Not an In Drag Across Blue-eyed Girl At Rest Mug Shot Blue Moon Once Opt Out Broader Ballads Shut Up Sudden Edge Dot Dot Dot Walkie Talkie Think Plato’s Cave Big Light Optic Abandoned Reading CP3O White Windows Drawn Covers For the Moment Hard Boiled Egg A Reading Chancy Double Double Double Quarter-light Bit Wet Shifted Teeny “B” Roads Day Off Swivel Stick Half Upside-down Song Pull Now What Sun Hat Twist Cap Leavings Info Weight Problem Canned Echo Twelve-Bar Blues La, la la la Park Bench Idea For Instance Natural Light Console Beauty is Beauty is Beauty Crescent Heady Instamatic Have a Shine Then Again Ocean Signal Box Message Was When Think Up Start Fluid Apollo Calling
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Excerpt from book:
The Magician, Jack Spicer
Rattled Tupperware can scarcely control my excitement.
The gifts started rolling it up all over again, sent the present Squeezed out of the tube in chain reaction to the kick which
Back to back switches the fallback position to fall out Of the blue a light bulb sputters its lack of breath on
Cold air ideas in black and white, please, gestures to twist
And stall the angels as they amble up the close, so Close the gate – were you born in a barn too close
By the stable? Kicking their heels – mind how you go there You go again there you go stalling – all poets are lyres
In the city with a blue edge that laps my front door– Step, so close to knowledge a dimly held view under
Street lamps outside the weather defiantly Russian right Off of Mayakovsky’s steppes to the bend in the view–
Finder. So what do you do you do what you do
Do don’t you – all or nothing or do it all to the heart Of you, bound hand and foot, and that’s what’s burst
Step to one side then proceed to where you go there Here smiling with all the charm of a Paul Daniels.
Fix me a Jack Jack, the impression cuts right away into You, you knew all poets are liars didn’t you, you knew.
Review quote: Listen up to Simon Smith’s London phonemes in a lyric serial that commutes gods, toast, half light, loss, concrete, poetry, phones and angels from poem to poem. What will happen next memory asks. A sharp poetic intelligence answers, at work and love in the spliced expression, quick emotion, tried and untested reasons. Peter Middleton Unpublished endorsement : I think the book is sensational, therefore: ‘More than any poet of his generation, Smith knows it is better to be a freak performer at a penny gaff than a labourer seeking work. Yet he is no side-show Bob or door-to-door huckster peddling quack cure-alls. Devoid of nostrums, his poetry is that rare thing: a real-deal panacea.’ Anthony Mellors Unpublished endorsement : I can see where Smith has picked up on [Tom] Raworth’s speed and got it into his own nerves brilliantly. I really like the way his poems come at one sideways on, using the fast visual bits that are how we perceive the world. Jeremy Reed Review quote: There is the charming optimism of “you do amazing things simply by reading”, as well as the extreme lyricism of “Tears of rain wind round eaves tears of rain wind round eaves / Tears of rain wind round eaves tears of rain wind round eaves”. The latter is an instructive example of Smith’s approach. We pronounce “tears” confidently enough, but “wind” is more treacherous – should it be read as verb instead of noun? Such enactments of indecision – the nervousness I mentioned – lend grit to the moments of cheery optimism. Simon Coppock Poetry Review Review quote: "You can't paraphrase the Real any more," Simon Smith once wrote, but his poems do funny things with the quotidian. Dry, dexterous in their crosscutting of linguistic registers, they maintain an enviable sense of directness that sometimes arrives at the epigrammatic. Kultureflash |
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