Regular viewers may have noticed that there was no poem yesterday, and foolishly presumed that I, like, forgot or something. Zut alors! In fact I was respecting sarah's student march by holding my own one day poetry strike. Nary a metaphor nor a metonym crossed my electronic picket line... The old list is getting a bit quiet again, n'est ce pas? A couple of promising threads, tho'... PE Teachers: For too long have we meekly accepted the propaganda that PE teachers are "hard, but fair" Bullet Baxter-from-Grange-Hill-types. My teacher, Mr Biggerstaff, once fractured my mate Derek's skull with a hockey ball, and is now wanted in three countries. Also, someone starting a fanzine mentioned bus trips. I think we oughta start ink-travelogues, like polaroids, but about your favourite routemaster journey. Having moved to SE London, where the underground is but a vague rumour, my life has been immeasureably improved by the 188 which takes me from the mean streets of Bermondsey over Waterloo bridge every morning. It's wonderful... Enough blather This week's poem is by James Tate. He's American, has won the Pulitzer prize, and is a kind of goofball surrealist, along the lines of Joseph Cornell or Donald Barthelme. His selected poems are published in the UK by carcanet, and are terrific. In no way does the melancholy of this poem reflect the fact that the only Valentines I got last Saturday were emails... ---------------------------------------------------------------------- James Tate Coda Love is not worth so much; I regret everything. Now on our backs in Fayetteville, Arkansas, the stars are falling into our cracked eyes. With my good arm I reach for the sky, and let the air out of the moon. It goes whizzing off to shrivel and sink in the ocean. You cannot weep; I cannot do anything that once held an ounce of meaning for us. I cover you with pine needles. When morning comes, I will build a cathedral around our bodies. And the crickets, who sing with their knees, will come there in the night to be sad, when they can sing no more. ------------------------------------------------- Stephen xxxxxxx Chairman of the official "Unholy Trinity" fanclub (London chapter) The Poetry Society Website: http://www.poetrysoc.com ----------------------------------------------------------------------- . This message was brought to you by the Sinister mailing list. . To send to the list please mail "sinister@majordomo.net". . For subscribing, unsubscribing and other list information please see . http://www.majordomo.net/sinister . For questions about how the list works mail owner-sinister@majordomo.net . We're all happy bunnies humming happy bunny tunes. Aren't we? -----------------------------------------------------------------------