The Interlude Poetry Anthology Issue 4 – 2006
Cover Design by Alya Karame Illustrations by Kit Kelen Copyright Š Interlude Magazine All Rights Reserved
Contents A Meeting on Main
3
34
Byron Barrett
No Grey
5
36
Ria Kirby
You’re History
6
37
7
39
8
40
10
42
AngrySam March/April 2006 Annie Nichols
11
46
Jan Kattein
Interview with Raymond Q
Two by Two Tom Leins
Esme Parin
Welcome to Slowtown
Pickering Place Robin Priestley
Alessio Zanelli
The Lemon
Origami Box Poem Andrew Nightingale
James Elphick
Haikus
Animals in the House of Mirrors GR Gorga
Giovanna Paternò di Sessa
Inner Visions
Weed Helen Nodding
Above Byron Barrett
17
47
Kiril Bozhinov
Dear Ken … (a letter to the Mayor of London) Helen Nodding
Nuggets
20
50
Malgorzata Kitowski
Nazi Dogs!
Esme Parin 22
51
Robin Priestley
Create your own Artist’s Book
23
52
25
54
26
56
The Songwriter Michael Corkett
28
57
Kathryn Cooper
Ephemera
Love of the Earliest Escape GR Gorga
Francesca Ricci
The Report
Transmission Stuart Newton
Ivana Rados
Attack!
Guide to Risk in the City Lottie Child
Amy Whitehead
Seven Deadly Moons
Some Friday Afternoons
Film Pills Francesca Ricci
30
58
Submissions
31
59
Make Gloves not War
Kiril Bozhinov
Ice Cream Paulina Eglé Pukyté
What I love about this area… Robin Priestley
Zoe Griffiths 32
60
Dublin Closing Byron Barrett
if instead of secreting what we thought, we drew a circle and stepped inside?
Qualia
Sometimes reality is too complex for oral communication – Godard
Teeth lightning weeps bleeding branches. A dead bird has fallen from the goblet.
Frozen in a salty equinox of loam and sea, together with land’s consciousness I counter: if instead of our memories, we were made of our forgettings,
I collect phonemes from the dream, assemble them into a coloured graph. Cinefilm tram-rattles industrial scapes. A diagonal hat; red walls; machines.
if instead of seeing what we did, we reconstructed what we missed in our blinks,
Malgorzata Kitowski 11
W e l c o m e
t o
S l o w t o w n
Visitor Centre
Slowtown is located somewhere between London and the Sea in the heart of the area earmarked for major urban development under the Government’s Thames Gateway Strategy: 120 000 homes along with schools, hospitals and major transport infra-structure are to transform this region by 2016. Slowtown has a very distinct urban infra-structure which encourages its growth while integrating with the natural rhythms of the landscape which surrounds the town. Slowtown has a Visitor Centre, a Picture House, a Museum, an Observatory and a News Agency.
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The town's growth is influenced by local conditions. It can shrink as well as grow depending on the need of its inhabitants. Architecture is used as growth initiator. It helps to direct and manage the growth of the town. There is no masterplan because growth can occur in plan as well as in section, perspective or axonometric. It occurs at 1:1 scale as well as at 1: 25 000 scale. On the following pages are some postcards received from Slowtown. You can cut out the postcard of the Visitor Centre, Rainham Radio and the Slowtown Museum, apply glue to the back, fold them along their centre line and send them to a friend at home.
Slowtown was created by: Jan Kattein, Zoë Quick, Chrysanthe Staikopoulou, Neill Grant, Young-Bum Kim, Boriss Krutiks, Philipp Lammers, Emi Melin, Christian Meyer, Veronica Niederhauser, Jelena Pancevac, Elli Papacosta, Juris Platacis, Irina Sharapova, Carlos de Sousa Machado and Alina Vadera between 18th July and 7th August 2005.
Below Zero I’m claiming my bride, Discouraged by patience and bruised by time. Seven ivory towers stand limitless, It must be curtain night, it must be time. The long line truly is ended by this time spent straightening it, As fathers to each other and ourselves A mind transparent is fulfilled. Jealousy, you cruel but effective healer, Deny my struggle and defeat, Attempt to remedy what anger cannot.
Know I never feared you, Know I’ll always advance at a steady pace, Until I lose my function, Out of control, Beyond concentration, It’s below zero this inspiration.
Paul Da Silva 23
Whom Do They Offend? I have witnessed holy love between flowers and the sun and self annihilation of sacred caterpillars, in honour of the candle flame. This lends due veneration of light to my spirits, but where should i seek this light in these modern exploits? Our pygmy stalwarts turn
all worshippers to their track, every ignorant pilgrim visits their furnished temples. Aloof, stands the clayed cottage of the dustman, which shakes and cracks with their boastful stares on every turn. his eyes flush and his heart gushes with blood at this difference, but mental peace
and satisfaction with his daily wages pacify him. He knows the secrets of dust and decay and the skills of Pioneer Potter, whose viceroy he is, and in his vexation lies His displeasure. That is why I don't bow before these nervous torch bearers, for love thrives on honesty, purity and truth of each partner.
Aamir Aziz 29-
Why You Can’t Go Home Again
cops who are waiting with warrants.
There were apples you shouldn’t have bitten, skits you should never have written, friends it was wiser to flee, punishments one can foresee, neighborhoods wholly destroyed, people you need to avoid.
There are journalists wanting a quote, morals you failed to promote, merchandise bought but unneeded, questions you shouldn’t have ceded, toxins your chimney emitted, neighbors who want you committed.
There’s your sister in fantasyland, sweaters you never could stand, enemies fitter and thinner, husbands still waiting for dinner, floods from mysterious torrents,
If you ever went home, you’d be nuts— they’d make sausages out of your guts.
Terese Coe 33
Crash Course Sleek steel-grey vehicle speeding through sunlight to where the road peters out on the beach in slap-dashed cement clinging to brick-ends, mudpuddles of sandpitted tentwater and blocks of conglomerate stuck to torn-up scabs of surfacing. Jump-cut jolt-started from handscrawled signs, instance is simple tense, place made over entirely to time. Kickstarted from handscratched marks, houses are outposts of distance. Eaten under wheels stripped of all history, that progress without aftermath, where you were is where you are now set back along the axis. A single timeless virgin present processed pointlessly forwards, translating future to now exactly blanking past as expelled detritus. From absolutely inside, all without look like escaped killers, all seem nude, moving as smudges at the margins of the screen, blurring to merge beyond this sealed place whose soundless murder is self-defence against all silence. Touchbutton windows effortlessly glide shut without seam to subtract self as distinct from its backdrops, extract viewer from its sights, relieve seer of thing seen. So vision is magnified to vista eyelessly. Incommunicably itself everywhere and otherless. Slides on a layer of ensnared air through a 36