15. Featuring: Judy Kendal

+ Neil Addison + Raymond K Avery + Shimanta Bhattacharyya + Duncan Broe + Gregory Gilbert Gumbs + Alan Morrison + Misti Rainwater-Lites + Gorden Scrapens

patched work

… disconnected morphemes floated past

it was perhaps the sixth day that we fished for them

storing our catch in shallow bowls

where they shone, transparent

kaleidoscopic

certainly the temperature shot down

was it at that point that the seamstress was asked

to line language with things?

her needle ran hither and thither

with no time to cut patterns

sewing whatever was nearest to hand

I can see her now

racing the cold

but who remembers the cracking as the ice advanced

  the rising and falling of lights…?

only you

it helps of course

to have some weight

pulling on the rope

but harder to find

are the upturned eyes

that focus

on only you

sheer bloodymindedness

fuck this I’m going to use this time

to climb away from it to climb

away from all the tensions yes

up the reds I’m going to press

my hands in holds until they ache

and kick my feet back into shape

strong focussed tight-stomached I’ll thrust

till pelvic muscles grind to dust

  for this is how the Gwen Moffats climb

  the Elizabeth Le Blonds the Isabel Hargreaves climb

away from men away from mess

from mud from heartache trickiness

let’s swarm let’s zoom

across the rocks

let’s search let’s comb

for tiny cracks

let’s find the rhythm here we go

the groove the music oh the flow

Edo

1600 - 1867

For Kanazawa, the Edo period constitutes

a flowering of aesthetic pursuits -

gold leaf

ceramics

lacquer

silk

tea

Noh,

all balanced on the overflowing rice tributes from land

gripped by the firm if ruthless hand of the Maeda clan.

Things haven’t changed, so much that Kanazawa (golden bog)

is now completely water-logged,

a place where only carp and lilies live,

reserved, traditional, conservative.

Yaki Imo

Ringing out - the roasted sweet potato seller`s call

(these days recorded)

Making Rasmalai In Kanazawa

Early summer and it is already 33 degrees.

I unearth Vinita’s gift of rasmalai -

to be made when missing home.

Crushed cardamom seeds

in milk & melted sugar,

bubbling all the while

an old friend drapes

his arm round

someone

else.

Back in the bread basket

who cares who

is sick.

Yoghurt ferments

with good reason.

Delicious rasmalai:

remember to refrigerate before enjoying.

how your whole life

how

yourwholelife

isrippeda

parthowyoucanno

longertrustany

onehowtheonlymin

dyouknowisyo

urshownote

venth

at

Yaki Imo

Ringing out - the roasted sweet potato seller`s call

(these days recorded)

Y A K I I M O O O O O

the traffic an accompaniment

in this carpet-covered room.

Maybe I`ll make a curry today

for one,

a carrot, an onion.

A motorbike is buzzing in the distance.

My friend left me a pitta bread

inside the fridge.

Tears fall before I start to chop and

I bless all those who do not look.

It is a cold I have,

red-eyed,

a cold.

Still the same old yaki imo call

(tape faded)

the traffic quite loud still.

YAKI IMOOOOO