Not strictly poet, not strictly artist, I might describe myself as both-neither. All I can say for sure is that I was born and at times I doubt even that. At my mother’s knee, I was entranced by the magic of text as she read aloud from The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard or Madame Chrysanthème whilst darning or shucking oysters. At my father’s knee, I learnt the power of image as he worked on his Napoleonic engravings with his pocket knife. Of my own knee, I will not speak. I am the inventor of the Callogram, which as well as being a key poetic innovation is also the most efficient way to weigh an object underwater. I live quietly, or would if it wasn’t for all the noise. This piece is on the subject of rain which I like, but only in principle.
[Philip Davenport, Guest-Editor 1]