Peter Finch



Names of those near him lots of some who have influenced him heroes nomdeplumes ffugenwau never alphabetical to get a rhythm drop the forename invent and substitute mangle insert wild cards loose-cannons unknowns very knowns set parenthesis (around) occupations (author) achievements instruments (piano) invented and real drop vowels tighten up tpwrtr kynrds hrt mntr like jazz bnd intrmnts cr pts (xhst) spd mkrs drgs cffne vslne slip slop second half left off. (scnd hf lft f).  Descriptors gouged up as overkill then raked through into letter groups.  Staccato.  Scatter.  Sentence end words gathered from his great works and laid out like poms or prim prose, cloud combs, rakes, riddles, mesh filters, sticklebacks.  Punctuation dropped gathered letters set in alphabetical groups, strained external mix.  Pages from pulp novels.  Random lifts from scientific texts.  Parts of the text erased fugitive lost.  Return to the names of the influenced shuffled and scratched.  The revealed accumulated structure could be further distorted but is not.  No Ouvroir de littérature potentielle novelmaking.  Pommes.  Pims.  Perms.  Touchstones are important.  He uses the formulae to parse fragments of reality out of the fog.  Strings of pearls.  Lights.  Poor lights.  Leaked battery lit.  Damp.  Bulbs clouded.  But lights.

Probably the most important realisation was that the ear could lead the voice.  Hear the distortion and then mimic it.  Follow the pale traces of sylable bumping.  Pick the uplift as the list rattles towards its conclusion, its inevitable and unemotional end.  The signals embed themselves and reproduce like amoebae.  Cells multiplying ( ) ( ) ( ) list and reorder.  Take the lyric apart and see how it stands up.  Unbolt the sonnet and let the parts roll in the dirt.  There’s dirt in all this.  Sticks to everything.    Don’t clean it off.  Most important thing in the world.


Instead of Writing

Fix the toner gain immense satisfaction ring the creditcard company the shop the loose the w ay the door hangs.  Strung.  Mostly anyway there’s death to contend with.  Skin erupting with distemper discolouration dysfunction don’t care.  Lower teeth gone to hell.  Pain in the bladder.  Cartilage worn.  Things stuck and leaking.  Energy enough for one burst then you’re fucked.  Cobbing, Redgrove, Wantling, Glyn Jones with one arm..  There is nothing new in this world, the clocks spin, the dust arrives, the dust never went.

I teach the method avoid slowing.  Get the action noted as near the action as possible.  Don’t let time intervene.  Time fat slug enveloper deadly smoke.  But it’s not the real enemy the best enemy the biggest most deadly.  That’s instead.  Anything other.  Pick the lint from your trousers.  Instead of writing you fix the broken oil in clean lift move the furniture stare through the glass at the watch the window snowstorm rain flecks of light.  These patterns that roll in.  Arms out like Leonardo like crosses like stars like Catherine wheels.  They dazzle.  They disrupt.

Glyn said you listen sometimes you stop sometimes you pick things up.  Wantling felt the pain and pushed it.  Redgrove noted and scratched.  Cobbing picked and smeared and slashed.   Outside there’s synchronicity diversion dismay and great showers of falling might.  The poems stick like dead babies.  Not born.  Left to shrink and darken.  They emerge if ever they do years on as smears and flecks and lines of dust.

It’s a dark life this endless search for light.


Trying To Find Béla Bartók

Top of the hill at Farkasréti Temetö in a mild rainstorm.
The mamoushka flower sellers
in sailing polythene squat by the road.
A Trabant has its front off.
There are bullet holes in the ferro tram stop
and there's a man with a dog.
The guard at the car-park has
the red fire face of a drinker
and no knowledge of this land's greatest son.
The paths like death itself are interminable.
I find him next to Solti
marked by a chisled bass clef
and overgrown with conifer.
There's a fragment of a red star
and no flowers.

Was your visit to Hungary:      yes / no
Which of these:  Concerto for Orchestra / Hungaroton / Race With The Devil
Rate democracy:  1- speech   2- obstinacy  3 - epic   4 - fiction
How: tin can / mixer deck / mini-bar / high-peak military cap (please circle)

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