Have a go under the waterfall

This is The Dipper, a poem by by Scottish poet, Kathleen Jamie. It’s impossible to write about a bird and make it breathtaking, but here it is, completed and placed by an expert for us to consider. Honoured.

 I saw that she wrote issue instead of flew. As soon as I saw issue, I saw the water give birth to the bird. The poem itself (in my head) flooded and fell, green with experience and cold and difficulties. When I saw solitary, the poem itself soared away and lit (her word) on a rock, alone, and looked at me with sunlight behind it and mockery between its claws. When a poem contains this much information and experience, I have to keep reading and re reading, clenching my small claws and hoping.

When she wrote lit instead of perched, that’s when the sunlight entered the cold, and the poem, and me. When she wrote swept stupidly, I stood still and admitted old age, a huge hot relief. This because it may be possible that I no longer have to stop the flow. When she wrote wrung, I saw the bird turn and turn again to give that ripple of solid sound. When she wrote supple, undammable, I saw bird muscle, throat muscle and opera and anger. Value and beauty are not ownable. They are beyond our hands. The last two lines won’t finish. They keep playing, calling on courage.  

This poem, if you allow it, is a massive experience.

Is this right? I don’t know. Kathleen Jamie is a master. She extracts and then sculpts what she wants to say. I am an amateur reader and can’t do that. But she makes me try hard and dig for it. Or the bird does. Something does.

Photography by Michael Woodruff

Wheel of Fortune

Dimitar Lazarov

Two people came into the shop and left again after about half a minute. This is because the Kevin Rudd biography was NOT the one they wanted.

They’d stood outside and argued about it for half an hour. Bending to examine the book through the window where it sat in the sun, doing nothing. Rapping the window, right in Kevin’s face. They moved away and came back. Once she partly opened the door, but the argument pulled her back out again. Finally, they made it inside. But it was the wrong book. He said, ‘Not to worry, not missing much with that fool.’

‘As if you’re going to win Wheel of Fortune, Trevor!’

The man, Trevor, said he thought he WOULD win Wheel of Fortune. He said that if he won a fortune, he would give it to the birds.

Artwork by Gerhard Gluck