The Cold Tap Sings

the p-word

GREEN LANGUAGE

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I have a poem in the first volume of this exciting new anthology series on Corbel Stone Press. ‘Green Language’ is about an encounter with a hoopoe in the Pyrenees.

BATMAN

When a song’s lyrics are a concrete poem.

Bat Macumba

Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba oh
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macum
Bat Macumba ê ê, Batman
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat
Bat Macumba ê ê, Ba
Bat Macumba ê ê
Bat Macumba ê
Bat Macumba
Bat Macum
Batman
Bat
Ba
Bat
Bat Ma
Bat Macum
Bat Macumba
Bat Macumba ê
Bat Macumba ê ê
Bat Macumba ê ê, Ba
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat
Bat Macumba ê ê, Batman
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macum
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba oh
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá
Bat Macumba ê ê, Bat Macumba obá

 

GREEN DREAM

 

NERUDA’S SEASHELLS

nerudas-seashells

A selection of Pablo Neruda’s seashells, lovingly indexed here.

‘Actually the best things I collected in my life were my shells.’

Pablo Neruda, I Confess I Have Lived

STRUCKTHROUGH

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A spread from a travel journal belonging to Gustave Flaubert, on sale in Paris last month.

‘Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.’

Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary