{"id":10615,"date":"2019-09-10T14:20:43","date_gmt":"2019-09-10T13:20:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615"},"modified":"2019-09-26T11:20:12","modified_gmt":"2019-09-26T10:20:12","slug":"three-poems-45","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615","title":{"rendered":"Three Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"<h5>The Plural of Unconscious, or Painting The Forth Bridge<\/h5>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\nSingle example in the OED of its use<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;being owned, at least,<br \/>\nby a volitional subject, is Norman<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\tMailer, of all people, havering,<br \/>\n\u2018but that may be my<br \/>\nunconsciouses speaking.\u2019<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nLiving ten flights up, the sky\u2019s traffic<br \/>\n\t\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\tcomes to displace street<br \/>\nlevel stuff, the raptors, bush planes,<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tpassenger jets,<br \/>\npigeons and orange fire<br \/>\nballs NE to SW over Scarborough.<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nThey activate the canvas\u2019s upper third,<br \/>\n\t\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\tenviably chalky northern<br \/>\nlight rinses the middle strip, and children\u2019s<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tscreams, deprived as they are<br \/>\nof transitional objects, buoy up<br \/>\nthe base from down here.<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nWe\u2019ve learned in the past, haven\u2019t we,<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tto mark how<br \/>\nusage warps held belief. Warped<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tor mistaken usage bakes<br \/>\nbelief into the user as raisins<br \/>\ninto despicable loaves<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nof un-bread. Unchecked, we\u2019re eyeing the bedouin<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tin the cassoulet. Tying flogged<br \/>\nfriars to a bull\u2019s rack before salting the tinker\u2019s<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\t\tdray horse. Chiellini, not<br \/>\nKeano, has the face of a condottiere;<br \/>\nRoy\u2019s is that of a galloglass, as a friend<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nput it, in her key note at Caius College. Who doesn\u2019t<br \/>\n\t\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\tenjoy putting Alan fucking<br \/>\nBennett in his place? Lemons weigh<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tgreen on lemon trees between<br \/>\nMonterosso and Riomaggiore. Olives<br \/>\nin ground nets. The Via del\u2019 Amore<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\ntaken by landslide in 2011\u2014small losses.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\t\tYou may feel, in your Eureka<br \/>\nJump Seat, time is on your side<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tbut have a look at Rod Stewart<br \/>\nnow. Where are the faces who tore<br \/>\nat our youth as hawks<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\ninto possum? Not vacationing<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\ton the Bosporus, I\u2019d wager.<br \/>\nMy brother contracted scabies, leaving the<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tringworm to me. Shocked<br \/>\ntwin chimps opening green<br \/>\nhymnals until service let out.<b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nThe green bled out. Gram stains<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tID\u2019ing what type of cells<br \/>\nwe\u2019d be, or become whatever pathogenetic<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tlater strain. May all<br \/>\nChristendom remember them.<br \/>\nAnd genuflect, as Beck might do <b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nat the loss of even one plectrum<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tfrom the shark\u2019s smile<br \/>\nbiting into the chrome of a mic stand.<br \/>\n\t&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tYou may think I meant Jeff.<br \/>\nI didn\u2019t. No one did. The strobes<br \/>\nand engrams have an effect.<\/p>\n<p><!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<h5>And Mars Passed Close To The Sun<\/h5>\n<p><b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nI\u2019m writing this in a hurry, bringing<br \/>\nits two ends<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\ttogether to keep<\/p>\n<p>the oil from the water, closing<br \/>\nit in on itself then watching<br \/>\nit wriggle. I\u2019m<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\thoping to pip her<\/p>\n<p>at the ribbon, before her own bomb<br \/>\ndrops in the next number of Nature.<br \/>\nIt\u2019s been forever, or less,<br \/>\nthey\u2019ve claimed<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tarcheobactin\u2014<\/p>\n<p>we\u2019re in terribly close now,<br \/>\nthe mitochondria rafts<br \/>\nin the single cell\u2019s sargasso,<br \/>\nway way back at the business<br \/>\nend of biological<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\ttime. Life\u2019s first<\/p>\n<p>murk or sea-vent event or<br \/>\npure accident\u2014<br \/>\nmust have cooked its own materials<br \/>\nwhatever ingredients needed<br \/>\nfor interior membrane walls.<br \/>\n\u2018Must have,\u2019<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\t\u2018somehow,\u2019 always more<\/p>\n<p>god where the gaps come from.<br \/>\n\u2018Eff that, she\u2019d thought, back in \u201901<br \/>\nand chased a suspicion the proteabacterin<br \/>\nhad its mitts in the game<br \/>\nin heretofore unseen ways. Those ways<br \/>\nare known now. She knows them.<br \/>\nShe has footage:<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tjittery, luminous,<\/p>\n<p>smeary drip moving from earliest A<br \/>\nto A-1, or exactly home in a dark<br \/>\nthe colour of migraines and horological<br \/>\nseizures, who knows, but without<br \/>\nsignal or fanfare this lite-brite gloop<br \/>\nup and <em>sheds a vesicle<\/em>, pinches off<br \/>\na piece or packet of itself, herniates<br \/>\na bladder of<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tsub-self<\/p>\n<p>that detaches, becomes a probe or<br \/>\nTrojan gift bag of lipids,<br \/>\niron, and recipes for iron and I lost<br \/>\ngrip of it back in the lobby of the Royal<br \/>\nYork where her drawings helped none<br \/>\nbut found it notable she and her lipids<br \/>\ncolleague were using a garden of eden<br \/>\nmetaphor as pedagogical tool over<br \/>\ndirty martinis<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tand male scientists<\/p>\n<p>in herds all presumably thinking<br \/>\nthem lab techs or just here with me,<br \/>\nbiochemistry is a discipline as much<br \/>\nas anything is, half its time spent fending<br \/>\noff physics and the other zealots all<br \/>\nto prove life began shedding vesicles<br \/>\nand may end over soup in Zurich<br \/>\nor Houston, haemorrhaging thought<br \/>\nbubbles with plans for Baja after<br \/>\npresenting the team\u2019s<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\t\tpaper in Nature.<\/p>\n<p><!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<h5>By Torchlight Through A Ventilation Brick<\/h5>\n<p><b\/><\/p>\n<p><\/b\/><br \/>\nAnd do you then see how exploding transformers<br \/>\nexpress an irregular division of what sky<br \/>\nis still visible? And then, at the blue-white spectrum<br \/>\nend, do you see the lampblack<br \/>\non metal, shadow on hinge and plate,<br \/>\nthe vestigial print of unseen power?<\/p>\n<p>1348 saw an island\u2019s inhabitants<br \/>\nreduced by half their number. It would appear<br \/>\nthe earth took back every other soul that stood.<br \/>\nJust clawed them back and left a stench.<br \/>\nFirst to see the folly of the forced march<br \/>\nwas a horse of a soldier of the Grande Arm\u00e9e.<\/p>\n<p>MIT saw an opportunity so took it, the computers<br \/>\nkick on, tasking away, ever-doubling,<br \/>\ngunning for the quantum state.<br \/>\nAnd we see how the shafts fall across lead,<br \/>\nstriping the eternal crypts in a Rileyian metaphysic,<br \/>\ndiscrete and geometric, objects goofily decoupled,<\/p>\n<p>presented axonometrically, smelling<br \/>\nof nasturtium and damp brick.<br \/>\nThe lesser Sarah as long and as wide as<br \/>\nthe re-discovered patriarch walled off in a wine cellar.<br \/>\nWhat family demands is rediscovery, or licence<br \/>\nto haunt, describing a semantic lever<\/p>\n<p>the rest of us live poorly on. A supermodel saw<br \/>\nthe distinctive forest green of the surface<br \/>\nstructure\u2019s entrance from her window\u2019s window,<br \/>\nthe glassine sparkle in piled aggregate, the slack<br \/>\nspring of the rat\u2019s body, the divinity\u2019s infinite<br \/>\ngrudge, wet holly, the blood of cooked intake and sorrow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Plural of Unconscious, or Painting The Forth Bridge &nbsp; Single example in the OED of its use &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;being owned, at least, by a volitional subject, is Norman &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Mailer, of all people, havering, \u2018but that may be my unconsciouses speaking.\u2019 Living ten flights up, the sky\u2019s traffic &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; comes to displace street level stuff, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[379,380],"tags":[388],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v20.2.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Three Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Three Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The Plural of Unconscious, or Painting The Forth Bridge &nbsp; Single example in the OED of its use &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;being owned, at least, by a volitional subject, is Norman &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Mailer, of all people, havering, \u2018but that may be my unconsciouses speaking.\u2019 Living ten flights up, the sky\u2019s traffic &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; comes to displace street level stuff, [&hellip;]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2019-09-10T13:20:43+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2019-09-26T10:20:12+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Ken Babstock\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Ken Babstock\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"10 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615\",\"name\":\"Three Poems - The Manchester Review\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2019-09-10T13:20:43+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2019-09-26T10:20:12+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/f6ce2ae7c10fb4ce871951afd195dc95\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=10615\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\",\"name\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"description\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/f6ce2ae7c10fb4ce871951afd195dc95\",\"name\":\"Ken Babstock\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"caption\":\"Ken Babstock\"},\"description\":\"Ken Babstock is the author of five books of poetry, most recently On Malice and Methodist Hatchet, winner of The Griffin Prize for Poetry. Babstock was the inaugural recipient of The Writers' Trust Latner Prize for a body of work in mid-career. New work appearing in Granta, Michigan Quarterly Review, South Dakota Review, Fiddlehead, and elsewhere. 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