<p>Mystery, luminosity and forgetting the maps – that thrilling space between sense data and faith.</p>
- Paul Farley,
<p>Mystery, luminosity and forgetting the maps – that thrilling space between sense data and faith.</p>
- Paul Farley,
Goose Music is a collection of new poems co-authored by Andy Brown and John Burnside, two writers with backgrounds in ecology and notable for their lyric poetry. John Burnside won the Whitbread Prize for poetry in 2000. Characterised by their formal variety, lyric intensity and their attention to natural detail, the poems in Goose Music are Ecopoetic, asking questions of how we might dwell on the earth in these times of great environmental change, exploring lyric ideas of identity, self, myth, landscape and place.
Goose Music is a co-written by two notable poets Andy Brown and John Burnside. The poems are intense lyrics paying close attention to natural detail, and explore ideas of identity, self, myth, landscape and place in these times of great environmental change.
- Acknowledgements
- Part One
- Goose Music
- Some Notes on a Theory of Emergence
- Nature Corner
- Atavism
- Insomnia
- The Other Garden
- Ganders in the Gardens
- A Horse’s Skull
- On Hollow Moor
- Eleven Gift Songs
- Small Voices
- Pine Trees at Five Ways
- Los angeles mohosos
- Three Enquiries Concerning Angels
- The Ice Pool Under the Church Tower
- Prayer
- Prayer / Why I am Happy to be in the City this Spring
- Castor / Pollux
- Fiat Nox
- Janus?--?Li Po Sonnets
- Orange
- Part Two
- Two Essays on the Folk Story
- The Breaking of Waves
- Persephone
- Eurydice
- Mules at Ystradginlais
- Narcissus (Einzelgaenger)
- Part Three
- Poems of the Father
- The Blue Hour
- The Promise of Home
- Homage to Henri Bergson
- The Other Brother
- Towards a Book of Common Prayer
- On the Road to the Eye Hospital
- Dedications
To disappear within the hum of creation is every creator's fiercest longing. And to reappear, reincarnate, grinning for all of the apparent reasons! Such is the magic Brown and Burnside make in Goose Music.
Three Enquiries Concerning Angels
after Paul Klee
i GEIST DER SCHIFFER
The angels that come in the night
are thinnest
and could be mistaken
for shadows,
like the blackness in old coins
or scraps of dialect.
They slip through when no one is watching;
sometimes they leave
handprints
or a trail of talc and myrrh
but never enough
to scare us
as these creatures of the day
who might even be what they seem
– the greengrocer’s son,
the woman who cleans for the doctor –
these terrible, sweet
faces at the window,
seemingly
indifferent,
against the yellow light
touched by a sudden warmth
like pieces of litmus,
everyday people
with somewhere else to go:
street sweepers, schoolboys,
the fishmonger’s wife,
handling the things of the day
but awake to the sky.