I live with a sense of given time. That gnomic phrase sits in my head . It may be a response to a rare sunny morning in February; everything has a gilded edge. I slip a blank notebook, a pen and a book called Free Logic into my bag to read on the way into Sheffield. I tell Adrienne I’m going to the “Inside the Circle of Fire” exhibition, a “Sound Map” of Sheffield. It consists of a darkened gallery where you lie on the floor immersed in the sounds of the city and the surrounding countryside. I...

I put Beckett’s “Dieppe” among the prayer-poems that Janice called for on the New Year’s Eve ‘Musing on Mastery’ thread. I’m pleased with how it sits small in white space amid all the other eloquent supplications:

again the last ebb
the dead shingle
the turning then the steps
towards the lighted town

I think no more of it, pleased to add a mark of brevity and stillness at the threshold of the New Year. I remember a stray word of Becketts' : “calmative”;...

I wake at three in the morning feeling alert , as if listening for something. Then I start to think of Steve Marr’s question in response to critiques of his poem The Universe Impresses “How would you express the vastness and beauty of the universe making a strong impression on you?” After turning this question over for a few restless minutes I find I’m in my study, pulling out books in which I think I can find distant stars.

Words and Days ‘A Table Book of Prose and Verse’ by Bowyer...

20.07.11

On Radio 4 the news from the U.S. is of proposals to raise taxes for the wealthy and close tax loopholes, all measures bitterly opposed by populist politicians. This highlights for me the clinical accuracy of the state of the American mind described in The Pale King. I set off to get to work for seven through the quiet, empty streets. My working shift is a mix of routine tasks (medication, helping people get organised, electronic note-recording), and a weave of narratives,...

Reading the Pale King

17.07.11.

I buy The Pale King on a rainy Sunday afternoon in Sheffield. It seems to suit the general pallor of the city. I read the first few sentences and know I will buy it. Will I read it? I get home and turn on the Open golf. Darren Clarke looks to be winning easily. At times, as he waits on the tee for the match ahead to clear he looks bored. “Calm, focused, relaxed” is how the commentators describe him.

Feeling the monument-like...