Since we’re in that lull between Antiphons, enjoying watching the submissions build up, I thought it would be interesting to discuss a few other magazines I’m particularly keen on. and that I encourage you to seek out and read. First up: Snakeskin, run by George Simmers. I’ve been reading Snakeskin for a while, but it’s been going much longer than that – the extensive archives go back to 1998. I think it must be the UK’s longest-running online poetry publication, and there’s a new issue every month – a tremendous amount of work. The poetry is always quirky and unusual, light on its feet, and some of course better than others, but there’s always work worth investigating. I was very pleased to have a poem published in the March 2015 issue. I recommend particularly looking out for the work of David Callin, Jane Røken, Ray Miller and Seth Crook – all great but very different poets, and often to be found in various corners of the web – including Antiphon, of course.
Thanks for all the sharing and tweeting about the new issue! If you downloaded a copy of issue 14 before around 8.00 pm GMT, could I ask that you pop back and download it again, as we’ve found an error in Annette Volfing’s great poem ‘In the Kitchen: I’m Fine‘, which has now been corrected (many apologies, Annette).
I’m delighted to add some further readings of work from Issue 14:
Here are more recordings, read by the poets, of poems in issue 14 of Antiphon.
I’ve also added a sign-up box so that you can receive notifications of new issues and Significant Happenings in the world of Antiphon.
First, the poem that acts as the prelude to the issue:
Heading home in the dark – Seth Crook
This is Rebecca Gethin’s chilling view through the eyes of the official artist of the Nuremberg Trials.
Laura Knight sketches the Nuremberg Trials
The one she is sketching is bored with it all.
He is intimate with fear’s little rustlings,
its held breath, the way it burns throats.
She notes how his eyes seem singed,
how his mouth is a wide slit across the block
of his face. He no longer listens
to the prosecutors drilling into his head.
What he has noticed is her attention,
the questioning of her pen nib.
Her eyes flick from paper to subject.
The Reichsmarshall looks up, stares straight back.
The quietly moving Living with the Dead, by Sandra Kolankiewicz
Living with the Dead, by Sandra Kolankiewicz
And here is Michael Bradburn-Ruster’s study of a feather that leads to something wider:
I never saw the bird, nor heard its flight,
assuming it was ever there at all;
perhaps the drowsy breeze began to wilt
and snatched up in one final flare of style
the weightless blade that spun down, helical
and delicate, to grace my path. I knelt
to a flame the color of fog, a quill
whose filament was pearl, articulate
of cloud, and seas’ immensity, of mist
and grassy headland stooping to the shore:
that feather filled my hand until a mast
loomed out of loneliness, and with a sheer
bloom of canvas, my heart – long pent and blind –
unfurled and glimpsed the day’s uncharted land.
And the wonderfully rich Bee Library, by Kay Buckley
Issue 14 is nearly ready to go live, but to whet your appetite we’ve asked some of the poets to record themselves reading their work.
This first poem, Footslog, by Julia Webb is a wonderful journey ‘walking the wild-camber of salt-wash’. It needs to be seen as well as heard but since the layout of the poem mimics the journey it’s best read in the magazine.
Footslog – Julia Webb
And now the lilting Ruysdael, Rough Sea by Catherine Rockwood.
Ruysdael, Rough Sea
Ingoing with a taut spritsail of white
showing its spinal dip, the weight of wind
pressed forward in the cloth: a Haarlem ship
whose load lightens her as she speeds to harbor.
For honor guards she’s salt-smacked passengers,
mixed cargo and a flicked-on trailing gull;
its wings bring sunlight down in a refrain
of brightness. Though the clouds above are vast
in heaven and move slow with higher airs,
tempted by the Italian Baroque,
still on she moves between them and rough water –
coast-runner, skipping matron, Holland’s daughter.
Florentines – Tom Phillips
Tom Phillips’ poem about his stay in Italy is also rather long to be reproduced here – find it in Act Three, very shortly!
For a magazine that has such an international range of contributors and readers as Antiphon it’s particularly interesting to hear the poems in the voice of their author. Thanks to all those who responded so enthusiastically to the suggestion of making an audio file. We will add more in due course.