All copyright © 2003 remains with the authors.
All copyright © 2004 remains with the authors.

Martin Walker


The lizard licks the air
then darts to its crack -
large limbs loom & crunch -
the air of leggierezza
when the hubbub has passed.

Martin Walker


The mountains
darkened by distance
no longer make one think blue
nearer, daubs
of chalk hover &
tell you this is your country

a single
light in the village
cold on the stones of a wall
red roof tiles
dulled now still give me
colour enough for my need

Martin Walker


'My notebooks tell how the eye is an instrument of contemplation,
how light is power and how ornament is thought' ~ Mandelstam.
Geneviève, pour donner au ferronnier to fix the guest room shower.
'Between the terrific noise of the guns
I can hear two hedge sparrows making love' ~
Edward Thomas wrote that to his wife, Helen, the day before he died.
A huge wind here has blown some clouds away, leaving growing streaks
of blue
blue is the hue, not of my true love's eyes, but revealed to me in trance, where I also met a frog, a bear, a lizard and a holy witch.
The last fly of summer is buzzing angrily against the window
Hey! You'd die out there if I let you out, you dumb ass, so quit
bitching. I never stop bitching myself, searching for what's behind my glasses.

Martin Walker, Lagorce, Ardèche , 1.39 pm.


Slow exposure

A black bumblething
steers through the air,
light flows over
the fields, glazing them.
Quercus ilex glints
along the paths.
It's like a world
dipped in honey here,
autumn's finest. But
there's a chill wind
blowin' round the bend,
and the quick sweat
ices your skin
while the gold vines rot.
Autumn's funeste,
skyline detonates
and hills turn saurian in the dusk.

Martin Walker
17.30 - 18.30 Romance Standard Time


sausage and onions
was today's lunch
the andouillette is
composed of cow's
innards in a trans
parent skin that
spill out when you knife
or fork it a
poem is more like
a leaf-folded
onion erect on
its stem plate with
(like thoughts) in season
flowers & seeds
that sprout from its tip
allium cepa
sweet syllables
evoking seepage
rolling through all
in onion-shaped drops
i will not move my
army without
onions said grant so
if you know your
onions so rich in
pure quercitin
(theyre saving your skin)
ponder their worth
these layers of light
wrapped round a void
mine eyes smell onions
(hearts of the earth)
I shall weep anon
sorrow & mirth
mixing in droplets
falling & gone

Martin Walker~ Lagorce, post-prandial



Wednesday, 29th Oct. 1947.

Yeah, right, telephone with Valentin New York

about portrait Detroit. - What else was there? Oh

yes, picked up $100 in Clayton

and looked at the landscape. - 5 O'clock party

with a lot of whisky. Ted, Wally with wife,

Janson with wife and son, Drewes with wife. One

does have a load of fun, ha ha, Herr Beckmann

giving a party, ha, ha, ha, - [end of note]

. . . . . . . . . . .

Wednesday, 29th Oct. 2003. Yeah, right, get on to Rixen about that numb

finger. What else was there? Saw the mason this

morning about *devis*, went bloody nowhere,

nothing happened. Bright mist, dim disappearing

hills. Write a snapshot for the poetry list,

smoke joint later, hallucinate beauty of

absent lovers, past holding, ha ha, what a

swell party this is, imagination - gah -

imagine! ain't wot it used to be, hi hi, -

. . . . . . . . . . .

Lagorce, Ardèche , France 14.50
Romance Standard Time

he mused
with alacritous &
pretty crummy
all the same
I like it

Martin Walker, Lagorce, 21.1.2004 18.26 Romance TimeA Queen in Green Patina

what happens when it goes Snap?
things hap-
pen at the same time, (s)hot
on the spot
but is there ever a same
time, & is it a game
e i n m a l und nie wieder, o n c e
or a break? bonne chance

it's a green
picture bisected by a corner of Horton's
luncheonette ICE CREAM
Soda Coca Cola Candy Lunch Cigars
& Marianne Moore's
coming out regally in the right half
(left to her); you see a Kodak
to the right of her hat,
her left hand's
to stress the design
of balance
in her cloak's flared grace,
her right foot
forward, her stick bisects a paving stone
just left of center ("It's on-
ly a paper moon"
occurs to me
~ it's Brooklyn in '53

this is a picture in the TLS I'm rea-
ding late as ever, issued Jan 23 '04

in '53 I was 10, smoked my first fag
from a pack
of Weights
& played
with myself unsuccessfully at
first, but right now
my heart goes out
to the young man
ing balletically as if resting on
the entrance to her left, ignor-
ing Miss Moore
& pretty much staring past the black-lipped bobby-
soxer ga-

zing at his only visible ear,
while her ser-
ious guy
(on our left) with chin in hand is weigh-
ing some-
up ~
be the price of the Chesterfields
that décolleté'd
cigarette girl on the ad appears
to be offering
the blasé lounger who's
a student? "too reclus-
ive for some things
to seem to touch
him, not because he
has no feeling but because he has so much"
(he's too
cut & just too early for James Dean
who next year did Women of Trachis at Cherry Lane
& then East of Eden)

while in Epsom, where I was born
some 10 years before
(the TLS reader sees
in a sun-dappled pic
taken from 1953 The Crowning Year of Sport
if he flicks to page 12)
"the [toothy] Queen
and the Duke of Edinburgh
[looking like Roger Moore ~

talk to Gordon Richards
just before the Derby"
on the sward
(Yanks please go "Aagh-be" when you pronounce that word,
it hurts me
to hear Durh-be)

"it is not the dime-novel exterior,
. but 'accessibility to experience'"
but what's the price of experience?
to quote William Blake
Glad day to you, Ma'am, when
Can we play it again?

Martin Walker 00.30 Romance Time Lagorce


The scythe's not hanging in the
tree. It sighs & soughs outside.
Unsung accords, signs of pol-
itick manoeuvres in the
rafters, leave the ship NOW! I'm
sunk, proffer cadences with
no sense repeating what I
said. Saith he. Size don't matter.

Martin Walker


I am feeling bitter
nothing at all is coming
bitterly empty
& emptily bitter
while death pre-
empts my bid
to know why
that sounds around
is the cause of envy
as well or ill
as emulation
yet of love
the ground

Martin Walker, Lagorce, Ardèche
23.04 Romance Time


i was cd editing my latest compilation

with the usual blend of flash

withdrawal & gloom

called if you can believe it

channeling leonard cohen

tesseractives first eponymous track

washed the scales from my eyes

then the man himselfs great event what

a sigh of relief thats no way

to say goodbye

it's just the way it changes

pasting in schumann

& heines am leuchtenden

sommermorgen trauriger blasser mann

then joan singing live suzanne

certain only drowning men

could see him segueing into

duparcs linvitation au voyage

aimer et mourir

au pays qui te ressemble

and suzy vega telling the story of isaac

I will help you if I must I will kill you if I can

so abram rose

in brittens war requiem

but where the lamb for this burnt offering

cut to everybody knows

everybody knows the fight is fixed

es ist eine alte geschichte

doch bleibt sie immer neu

dont go home with your hardon

it will only drive you insane

being leonard cohen at weddings

and bar mitzvahs i spent the first year

finding myself and the second year

losing myself in leonard cohens day

job by the austin lounge lizards

its part of the price every artist must pay

lady midnight said i was dead

and could never return um mitternacht

sie achtets nicht sie ist es müd so

long marianne laugh & cry &

cry & laugh about it all again

Eubies memories of you with satchmo

& a rosary of tears

the partisan by noir desir

et je nai pas peur

jai tant damour

for you usa

its here the familys broken

and its here the lonely

say thats how it goes

took me all afternoon

to burn the thing

Martin Walker
Lagorce 19.18 Romance Time


chunnelling duddy or diddy

there seems to be uh guepe in the text

L[ ]c[ ]n is the nume they worship

leeter un even more sucred

nume turns up uz referred to by

the letter         urlso uh         psycho[ ]n[ ]lyst

or shrink         though uz so often

with these 20th/21st century

hominids         the sucred is excoriyetied

et the seem time uz it is urdoored

urdoored?         urdoored         yes          i sed

yes          whut the bleyzes         is         it

text coming thru         theres uh pettern to be

descried         now urnother         someone culled

Ozym[ ]ndi[ ]s         urnother wholy figure I guess

round the dec[ ]y of that coloss[ ]l wreck

gets on your nerves doesnt it

boundless and b[ ]re

some monurch doubtless         now I ken reed

some torquing of the f[ ]ther figure

on urnother lyst         further

firther feyther?         urnother hole

these eternull guepes in the text

seem uz with L[ ]c[ ]n          sometimes its d[ ]ddy

theyre torquing of diddy or duddy? now our

chunnellers voice groning end moning ut lust

weet          its in germen          so trouncelight it

okeh here goes          the moment of repetition

the uncunny         hot summer efternoon

nehru street         only peinted frowen?

no doubt         wot they ur

feeces from the windows

i esceeped         but noh         buck in the seem street once more

ive excited urtension now

oh those feeces

got buck ut lust to the piuzzuh murtuh

I didnt touch honest to gourd pleez

im thru futter?         sick moond do you heer

futti? im thru deddy

im thru

Martin Walker
chunnelled in Lagorce Wed 31.03 00.03 romance time


Ten years ago, Rwanda.
You know what I mean.
Hell's gates are still open,
the burning boars of Envy & Rage
with the Hounds of Resentment
snapping at the Opfer ~
the Scapegoats & the Scum ~
and their overlords,
Empire and Dominion,
doing the Strut
at the Grand International Hunt Ball bash
in their designer battle togs
their teeth flashing
for the cameras.

Lagorce, 12.45 Romance Time
Martin Walker

Nightingales cheeping trilling &
tutting down in the valley while
the frogs bleat polyphonically
along the riverbank.
Thou wast not born for toil
deathless amphibian but to croak
in concert coaxing the loved one ~
long live your season!

Lagorce 10.20 Romance time
Martin Walker


Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring.

Every Wednesday, Poetryetc members were invited to post short poems on any subject or in any form they chose. The idea was to make a poetic collage of instamatic “snaps” of that day that reflected the international membership of the list. The project has generated an astounding number of poems.

The first two runs, of six weeks each, and the first ten weeks of the third run, are archived at Wild Honey Press under Poetryetc Project. The rest - amounting in all to a run of a year - are archived here.

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