hw: bob calvert pomes

Yuri Gagarin A.Wilson at DERBY.AC.UK
Mon Jan 8 07:52:07 EST 1996


firstly, a happy new year/sun/etc to one and all &c.

okay, i saw at the end of last week some reference being made to bob's
pomes; as i missed the beginning ov this thread i don't know what was
going on (and as i couldn't get into the boc-l archives) anyways, whilst
'tidying' my stuff over the hols (well shifting various piles of things to less
conspicuous locations, i came across New Worlds 10 (ed. Hilary Bailey),
pub. by Corgi 1976) as well as various shorts by New Worlds regulars:
Moorcock, Bayley (non-fic by Disch & Clute) there's a pome by our cap'n
bob and some "interesting" notes on contributers. For those interested,
here's the notes on bob'n'mike m. and bob's pome:

Michael Moorcock "... [book stuff snipped] ... He occasionally performs
with the rock band Hawkwind (for whom he writes) and has made an
album with his own band The Deep Fix (New World's Fair)"

"Robert Calvert is a poet and musician, singer with the heavy rock group,
Hawkwind. His latest album is called Lucky Leif and the Longships (with
Michael Moorcock on banjo)."

[Fuck, it sounds frightening left like that]

oh yeh, and this bit in Michael Butterworth's entry, "He has just completed
a novel, Time of the Hawklords ('Hawkwind rocking at the end of time',) in
collaboration with Michael Moorcock" So, Moorcock was a collaborator on
that, there's one for his cv  ;-)

anyway, much more interestingly, Bob's Poem:

THE NAKED AND TRANSPARENT MAN GIVES THANKS

Amid the folding of all greenness left
I give my thanks, whose-heartedly*, for life.
For this vermillion tapestry, warp and weft
of the blood-vein's fabric. Its threads are rife,
conspicuous; easy meat for knfe
or microbe and the many ills that kill,
and yet are stubborn and abundant still.

With ruins of ages around me, strewn
like wreckage of an unsuccessful Probe
among the craters of a wasted moon,
I extend my thanks for this living robe
and its pulsing weave, to the moth-holed globe,
and unravelling, almost threadbare sky
of the failing sun, under which i lie.

*whose-heartedly - typo?, whole-heartedly?



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