The yellow lift goes up and down in a sleek glass sleeve in front of me. I’m in the Royal Festival Hall lobby with it’s cafeteria and smart modern look. American jazz greats in blow-ups on the wall cycle through a slide show. On the 5th floor is a massive poetry library, The Saison. 5016-4967b94d6da3fThe PR tells me: “The Saison Poetry Library houses the Arts Council poetry collection, the most comprehensive and accessible collection of modern poetry in Britain. The collection, dating from about 1914, consists of most poetry from the United Kingdom and Ireland, a large selection from English-speaking countries worldwide, poetry in translation, poetry by and for children, rap and concrete poetry.” OK I’m going up after I write this.

Today in New British Poetry from Graywolf, I read a wonderful poem by British Poet Gillian Allnut. Here is a brief taste:


He is languid as a fed lion.

She in her salt and sackcloth gown is gone

into a wilderness of wind at noon

where the wonderful covered well of tales

is a dry waterhole

or a bell


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