I spent this early morning at the funeral mass of a neighbour and I have not had time to think about what poem I would like to publish today. Yesterday, whilst looking for some paperwork
and files, I found a small hand bound book of poems that I had made in Barcelona last year. It’s provisionally titled The Archivum, partly because I found myself at least twice in the Cathedral of Pi (Gothic quarter) and therein is a small courtyard with railed in trees, the paving slabs are endowed with varieties of images and symbols, mostly skull and X-bones. Before one gets to the courtyard, there are two coffins on a shelf bearing crosses, that, my friend assures me quivered and rocked about during the Cathedral occupation; and then a sign Archivum.
For some reason the little book contains two finished poems and volumes of notes/drafts , all forewords by a quote from The Unnameable by JP Lovecraft I have said it here before, Lovecraft is creepy; but not really scary. The poems are in Irish and describe Loch Lein and Catalunya breezes.
I am unsure whether to publish them in full or excerpt , as they are more draft than poems. I thought I had lost them in my endless files and am glad they are recovered. I also came across a blue Craftsman’s Notebook , which is chockfull of images (they all start as image) that never quite made it into poems but does show my intense preoccupations at that time. It’s blue bound with a small elastic holding it together. I did not study it too closely but intend to later on today.
There is a poem on Poethead entitled Santa Maria del Mar which I am adding in at the base of the piece. I am interested in conservation and apocrypha, thus can only assume that the two small books were filed together in an odd place for later finding.