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Showing posts from May, 2017

POETRY AND MONEY

It is true we (Eyewear Publishing) has adopted some elements of the "American model" that uses Submittable more than other small presses have done in the past in the UK - though Submittable is becoming increasingly respected, in the UK and the USA. Competing with so many digital platforms now means we have to try our best in a very robust climate. The agents and poets who work with us, and other authors, are usually impressed and comforted to know they get three things with an Eyewear contract a) business nous; b) unimpeachable editorial and aesthetic intelligence and sensitivity; and c) a commitment based on genuine love of literature.
Eyewear is about the opposite of money - it is about culture surviving, even thriving, despite financial pressures - and about working within the system to bring the best looking books possible, with the best writing in them, to the widest audience, across the world. However, so long as poets and authors think that publishers' main role is …

THE WINNER IS ROBIN RICHARDSON

WITHOUT A ROOF

Good god I'm gorgeous, open      on the operating table, so impeccably pink
pearl you could drape me on a hotel heiress,
     make a mint. It is a costly transformation:

girl to goddess, curve to cosmic pin-up,     star-strong in my homemade aristocracy.
The ring, I mean. The one he gave me days
    before I lifted like some unfeeling winged

thing on a plane that didn't crash.     What's worse I'm well, not huffy, hidden
from the day, not having ended anyone,
    unsympathetic in the most exquisite way.

Nude, open on a billboard in the Amazon     as pythons crawl inside to please. He disapproves:
the carefree sovereignty of solitude,
    almost anorexic silhouette. They say

it's tactless to be happy, living is an exercise     in letting go, existence as a river runs
its course regardless of our ripples, but
    they're wrong. I'm running with it wrapped

around me, a translucent, minnow-print      kimono, full of flow and following
a pathless cut th…

14 POETS SHORTLISTED FOR THE FIRST FORTNIGHT POETRY PRIZE

Every two weeks a fortunate poet wins £140 - 14 poets get shortlisted, and one selected the winner... the winner's poem appears at this blog, along with their bio and photo... and the best poems from the shortlist become an anthology in time... Here we go...


Shortlist for the FORTNIGHT PRIZE, NUMBER ONE, May 3-17

1.ASHLEY-ELIZABETH BEST, ‘Alignment’ (Canada)
2.AUDREY MOLLOY, ‘A Gradual Eden’ (Ireland)
3.CLAIRE CROWTHER, ‘Pets Don’t feel Pity’ (UK)
4.EMILY OSBORNE, ‘Brute Facts’ (Canada)
5.ERIC SIGLER, ‘The Panther’ (USA)
6.FRANCINE WITTE, ‘Charley Explains Baseball To Me’ (USA)
7.GLEN WILSON, ‘Rented Flat’ (Ireland)
8.IAN DUDLEY, ‘President’ (UK)
9.KATE NOAKES, ‘Edward’s Memory’ (France/UK)
10.MARC BRIGHTSIDE, ‘Influence-A’ (UK)
11.ROBIN RICHARDSON, ‘Without A Roof’ (Canada)

CATCHING UP

Sorry for having been away. The world's tumult continues. Notably, and for the better, Macron beat Le Pen in France; the tide of hate was briefly halted. In America, Trump edged closer to Full Nixon, with this throttling of the very tall FBI director, and odd references to taped conversations.

Nixon, as an aside, had a drink problem, mental health issues, BUT - and this is a big but - for all his errors and personality problems, and troubling ambition, and disrespect for the law of the land - was an educated legal mind, with a strong sense of right and wrong, a keen intellect, and a very clear economic and foreign policy objective - to defeat Communism. That Nixon fell well below his ideals and values is his personal and political tragedy and legacy.

Disastrously for America now, and the world, Trump appears to have no moral compass, no worldview worth speaking of, no intellectual capacity - just the ambition, personality disorder, and lack of respect for the law of the land. He is,…