Why you should forget everything you have learnt about Knut Hamsun and other poets with work published in the second edition of Modern Poetry Volume VII
At fifteen I stopped scowling,
all worked up, my nerves being irritated
by close of day.
Hopelessly in love,
we have not met like this in a long time,
the expressions of the cobblestones
uncertain, stumbling,
staring continuously at the floor,
so as not to be distracted by Idleness,
buttoning his uniform.
What the government doesn't want you to know about Knausdgaard and Fitzgerald
There had been a war fought and won and indulged in,
all costs inexplicable but almost chemical.
We continued to play, but such an old town for rumours
while the sun was setting on the horizon was in my mouth
and inexplicable things happening had
already littered my mind