Category Archive: PETER’S WRITING
The Faucian Bargain
(With apologies to Christina Rossetti and her “Goblin Market”) Morning and evening Folks heard the coolies cry: “Come buy our pangolins, Come by, come buy; Bats and lemurs, Bits of Uyghurs, Human femurs, Embargoed seegars – All ripe together In wintry weather,- Morns that pass by, Fair foreign bats fly; Come by, come by; Pass the wet market.” ♠ Evening by evening Beyond the fence and bollards, Shi Zhengli bowed her head to hear, Her Wuhan boss, who hollered “Lady, veil your blushes Crouch in your office like a cave In the cooling weather; With cautioning arms and clasping lips,…
Continue Reading →Elegy for the Tank Man
[Tiananmen Square, Peking, 5 June, 1989] — A stand-off in the liquid heat of Tiananmen Square Caused Deng’s conga-line of tanks to begin rolling there. They rumbled down the avenue… Scoping tired students; waiting for their cue. — Suddenly a man appeared and stood before the ranks, Armed only with shopping bags – He defied the tanks, The lead tank turned and tried to pass, the man moved in its way; Then firing came, a soldier yelled but still he chose to stay. — He clambered on a tank and knocked, no friendly answer came, And finally the cameras stopped…
Continue Reading →Art Deco
What a Waste The Burial of Art Deco (With apologies to T. S. Eliot) Art Deco is the cruellest style, breeding High tech out of a dead hand, mixing Memory and elegance, stirring Dull wood with sprightly lacquer. Opulence kept us warm, covering Earth in sleek geometric stylized forms, A magpie greed with décoratifs. Le Corbusier surprised us, waging war on decor* With its many forms and guises; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into midtown Manhattan And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. “The elegant display of surplus labour in privileged objects.”** And when…
Continue Reading →Rembrandt
(15 July 1606 / 7 – 4 October 1669) A man from Leiden sallied forth, Though plain of face, he ventured north; From callow youth to grand old age He shows himself at every stage, An autobiography in paints Along with sundry sinners and saints. [His light and shade: His stock in trade: Full in control Of workings of the soul – And mysterious light: Enigmatic sight: All of human thought In his canvas caught.] After long life, after his last breath, He was a pauper at the death, Forgotten then his splendid skill And the phosphorescent thrill Viewing the…
Continue Reading →What
(with apologies to Rudyard Kipling) What can you keep when everyone around you Is hysterical and blaming all on you, “What the dickens,” is the way they sound you Out, and stipulate the new taboo; What the devil is the endless queuing, The waiting by the door we see, surprised, What went down when everyone was booing, When emerged one, no longer disguised: — What you dream you are is often vaster; Than the actual world…
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