Eggplant.place

1d

A Home in Space: Edwin Morgan’s Selected Concrete, Visual & Sound Poetry
17 September, University of Glasgow – free

An evening to discover & celebrate the incredible body of visual & sound poetry by Edwin Morgan, much of which is rarely seen & will now be available in this significant new volume from Reaktion Books.

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/a-home-in-space-edwin-morgans-selected-concrete-visual-sound-poetry-tickets-1996801819996

#Scottish #literature #poetry #visualpoetry #concretepoetry #soundpoetry #EdwinMorgan #20thcentury

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6d

RE: https://me.dm/@tuckerlieberman/117180472131650269

Please see! See see see! 👀 👀 👀
Under the lettuce bag!

The cover of ATTIS & ALEPH has been revealed! #poetry #bookrelease #reading
Cover art: Rachel A. Rosen @youseeatortoise

https://nightbeats.substack.com/p/write-on-back-to-school-edition

⬆️ ⬆️ ⬆️

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2d

This far north, the harvest happens late.
Rooks go clattering over the sycamores
whose shadows yawn after them, down to the river.
Uncut wheat staggers under its own weight…

—Dorothy Lawrenson, “September”
published in Painted, spoken 22 (2011)

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/september/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #September #autumn

September
Dorothy Lawrenson

This far north, the harvest happens late.
Rooks go clattering over the sycamores
whose shadows yawn after them, down to the river.
Uncut wheat staggers under its own weight.

Summer is leaving too, exchanging its gold
for brass and copper. It is not so strange
to feel nostalgia for the present; already
this September evening is as old

as a photograph of itself. The light, the shadows
on the field, are sepia, as if this were
some other evening in September, some other
harvest that went ungathered years ago.

ALT

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2d

The deid-hole’s a sma-boukit place for you.
You need tae be blawn aboot the cosmos
so’s your live matter mells wi the spaces
and you become the stour starns are made o…

—Alastair Mackie: In Memoriam Hugh MacDiarmid (1892–1978)

Christopher Murray Grieve – Hugh MacDiarmid – died #OTD, 9 September

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #HughMacDiarmid #InMemoriam

In Memoriam Hugh MacDiarmid (1892–1978)
Alastair mackie

The deid-hole’s a sma-boukit place for you.
You need tae be blawn aboot the cosmos
so’s your live matter mells wi the spaces
and you become the stour starns are made o.

Sma spirit, ye couped yoursel oot like an ocean
and on it ye sailed tae your odyssey.
Your poems set their bows for the infinite.
It was a sma bit coble made o Scots.

Ahent the muckle brae-face o your brou
barmed the thochts. They were like boolders,
ram-stam, ramgunshoch, aften wilyart. Polyphemus
hurlin craigs at the galleys’ hotterin starns.

And aye the sky-line cockit its fore-finger.
For fifty years laneliness was your crony.
Your spaces were polar anes, the cauld burn
o your mind the aixle-tree that iled your world.

I think o Pascal’s infinite spaces
and Scotland a wee dot in the abyss.
You gied it a starn; the muckle hole skinkles
yet in the licht. Sic matter never dees.

The terror that I feel is for the muckle howe-hole
your last sleep leaves ahent. As if a mountain
that held up the lyft had sunk intae the mools
and suddenly the sky-line’s unfrienly.

And oor steps styter and Scotland’s again
‘the bonny broukit bairn’. Lie back in your kist
licht bearer. And may the giant back-birn
ye cairriet lie lichtly in the earth’s happin.

ALT

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1d

There are times when I think
of the knowledge we had as children:

the patterns we saw in number, or the spells
and recipes we had
for love and fear…

—John Burnside, “Being and Time”
published in THE LIGHT TRAP (Jonathan Cape, 2002)

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/being-and-time/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #JohnBurnside

Being and Time
John Burnside

There are times when I think
of the knowledge we had as children:

the patterns we saw in number, or the spells
and recipes we had
for love and fear;

the knowledge we kept in the bones
for wet afternoons,
the slink of tides, the absolutes of fog,

or how a lapwing’s egg can tip
the scale of the tongue;

how something was always present in the snow
that fell between our parish and the next,

a perfect thing, not what was always there,
but something we knew without knowing, as we knew

that everything was finite and alive,
cradled in warmth against the ache of space,

marsh-grass and shale, and the bloodroot we dug in the woods
that turned our fingers red, and left a stain

we kept for weeks, through snow and miles of sleep,
as if it was meant to happen, a sliver of fate
unstitching its place in the marrow, and digging in.

ALT

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23h

He moves the way light moves: now sudden,
racing up a field as sun clears cloud,

now unnoticed, leaching from the world
until you look up into dark…

—Sheenagh Pugh, “Him Again”
published in A Little Touch of Cliff in the Evening: New Writing Scotland 30 (ASL, 2012)

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #autumn

HIM AGAIN
by Sheenagh Pugh

He moves the way light moves: now sudden,
racing up a field as sun clears cloud,

now unnoticed, leaching from the world
until you look up into dark.

And he inhabits next door's peat stack,
waiting for winter, and the fat sheep

ready for the show, and the gap
in the window of what was a house

and is a shed, and soon will be out of use.
The berries that were once white blossom

on the brambles belong to him,
so they say, and lose all their taste

on a certain day, when he comes to harvest
what is alive, and ripe, and his own.

ALT

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23h

NAMING THE SNAKES: New Writing Scotland 44
Edinburgh launch
15 September, Blackwell’s, South Bridge – £3 / £11 with book

Celebrate the latest issue with a mix of readings of poetry, short fiction & non-fiction in English, Gaelic & Scots – all welcome!

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/naming-the-snakes-new-writing-scotland-44-tickets-1995684361648

#Scottish #literature #Gaidhlig #Gaelic #Scots #Scotslanguage #poetry #shortfiction #shortstories #writing #writingcommunity #Edinburgh

naming-the-snakes-new-writing-scotland-44-tickets-1995684361648

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22h

A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle
19 November, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh. Free, ticketed

Marking the centenary of Hugh MacDiarmid’s landmark poem, “A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle” – a 2685-line work in Scots that is colloquial, lyrical, & highly literary, blending tradition with modernism & exploring both national & international themes

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/a-drunk-man-looks-at-the-thistle-tickets-1999760348033

#Scottish #literature #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #MacDiarmid #HughMacDiarmid #modernism