Well this is just brilliant all round. I didn't know his poem and I love it and your reading of it. Especially love the "pockets brim with scimitar things" line. And your poem! "we can't mini-/skirt and mango smoothie/ our way out of this one". Something I think about a lot in poetry is the idea of audacity and I think I get something of that in Lumsden's poem. The young, if young can also mean 'young' in poetry establishment terms not just age, can get away with a lot because they are naïve and don't know the rules. And there is a sense of admiration of that level of audacity because it's a freedom you don't know you had until you have lost it a little bit.
Yes, absolutely, that untutored audacity is a precious thing. That's why I've dedicated my writing life to making an absolutely tit of myself. There was a review of my work super early on that said I "over reach", which I decided was a badge of honour, means I'm writing at full stretch, assume some risks, fail gloriously. What's the alternative? "Underreaching"? There's a Roethke quote, something about how we all "long to create a great dreary masterpiece that everyone will have to pretend to read". Lol. I think about that often. Roddy was the enemy of the Great Dreary Masterpiece. I try to carry that energy with me also.
Probably. He never gave up on trying to socialise me. In the same way (and with the same varying levels of success) that I persist with Luna, even though in nearly three years she has met precisely three dogs she will tolerate. One a year. And that's somehow better than my standing record with people. I do hope he knew I appreciated it, though, his persistence. It made a huge difference in my life, and I remain grateful.
Yes, dear Sarah, it is bottomlessly sad. I love that we have Roddy's words, and that I can unite new cohorts of poets with them each year, but there's an ache in the wake of that, nonetheless, that he isn't here to show us all how it's done. x
I love that Lumsden poem. On a drunken night at the Betsy Trotwood on one of our MA piss-ups (sorry poetry nights) I fell into a prolonged chat with the landlord who I think told me Roddy used to hold poetry nights there. Anyhow great stuff. I laughed out loud at a ‘slightly brilliant student’. Terrific.
Well this is just brilliant all round. I didn't know his poem and I love it and your reading of it. Especially love the "pockets brim with scimitar things" line. And your poem! "we can't mini-/skirt and mango smoothie/ our way out of this one". Something I think about a lot in poetry is the idea of audacity and I think I get something of that in Lumsden's poem. The young, if young can also mean 'young' in poetry establishment terms not just age, can get away with a lot because they are naïve and don't know the rules. And there is a sense of admiration of that level of audacity because it's a freedom you don't know you had until you have lost it a little bit.
Yes, absolutely, that untutored audacity is a precious thing. That's why I've dedicated my writing life to making an absolutely tit of myself. There was a review of my work super early on that said I "over reach", which I decided was a badge of honour, means I'm writing at full stretch, assume some risks, fail gloriously. What's the alternative? "Underreaching"? There's a Roethke quote, something about how we all "long to create a great dreary masterpiece that everyone will have to pretend to read". Lol. I think about that often. Roddy was the enemy of the Great Dreary Masterpiece. I try to carry that energy with me also.
Oooh yes, "over reach" as a badge of honour, I really like that
Of course he’d have invited you Fran. I remember him often 🍃
Probably. He never gave up on trying to socialise me. In the same way (and with the same varying levels of success) that I persist with Luna, even though in nearly three years she has met precisely three dogs she will tolerate. One a year. And that's somehow better than my standing record with people. I do hope he knew I appreciated it, though, his persistence. It made a huge difference in my life, and I remain grateful.
I still think 'divil's milt' is a lovely insult.
Oh yes, it definitely is! :)
And very few English people know what it means :)
Brilliant and joyous. Both his poem and yours. And infinitely sad. X
Yes, dear Sarah, it is bottomlessly sad. I love that we have Roddy's words, and that I can unite new cohorts of poets with them each year, but there's an ache in the wake of that, nonetheless, that he isn't here to show us all how it's done. x
I love that Lumsden poem. On a drunken night at the Betsy Trotwood on one of our MA piss-ups (sorry poetry nights) I fell into a prolonged chat with the landlord who I think told me Roddy used to hold poetry nights there. Anyhow great stuff. I laughed out loud at a ‘slightly brilliant student’. Terrific.
Happy birthday, Roddy. Damn, I missed this