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Welcome to Carcanet Press, one of the outstanding independent literary publishers of our time. Now in its fifth decade, Carcanet publishes the most comprehensive and diverse list available of modern and classic poetry in English and in translation, as well as a range of inventive fiction, Lives and Letters and literary criticism.
The Alexandra Sequence The Alexandra Sequence John Redmond
The Number Poems The Number Poems Matthew Welton
The Teller and the Tale The Teller and the Tale Gabriel Josipovici
Commotion of the Birds Commotion of the Birds John Ashbery
Vladimir Mayakovsky Vladimir Mayakovsky Vladimir Mayakovsky Tr. James Womack
Dirt Dirt William Letford
Playing the Octopus Playing the Octopus Mary O'Malley
What Must Happen What Must Happen Jeffrey Wainwright
Selected Poems Selected Poems Nancy Cunard Ed. Sandeep Parmar
Poem of the Day

Love Poem 5 a.m.

Jeremy Over

The last grains of the night
sift through the branches above our heads
as we step, on bare feet
through the young larches.

We are too much in love to eat
except for the occasional blackberry,
which we nibble at
like out of luck foxes
on their way home in the morning.

We are too much in love to sleep
but, for the first time that I can remember,
I have just had a vivid waking dream,
of weary swallows resting on the ground
in small hollows - pockmarks on the grass body
of a golf course by the sea -
scars in the turf left behind
by golfers after their shots
especially their approach shots
to the green where the steeply descending
chopping
motion
of
the club head
takes a rather
large divot
out of the ground
as backspin is imparted in order to stop the ball in as short a space
as possible.

This is sometimes tricky on seaside links, of course, where the often sandy ground can drain quickly and become very firm, causing the ball to travel a long way after the first bounce. In those sorts of conditions, I always opt for the low chip and run approach myself: close the face of a seven iron slightly and just sweep the ball off the turf like you were clipping it off the dining room table. Better control and no divot.

That wouldn't leave anywhere for the swallows to rest though, I suppose -
No hollows for the swallows . . .
Taken from 'New Poetries II'...
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