[Steve Bucknell]

As I went to bed last night I heard on the radio that Edwin Morgan had died.

From the last page of "The New Divan"Carcanet 1977, the last part of his sequence in memory of Veronica Forrest-Thomson:

10.

It's true we only live to die.
We lie, and rise, and run, and lie.

You'd think the bitter DNA
would decline its wedding-day.

Fever has no logic though.
What we do's not what we know.

Art, love, work, war, gods, seas or Mars-
we want them, with or without scars.

There's nothing we shall never do
once the message has come through.

He said. And she got up in pain.
Outside, the streets were black with rain.

She wondered, who will think of me?
For I am dying, as you see.

But she said nothing, locked the door
at last, when she had nothing more

to share with the imperial race,
and met her terror

[Steve Bucknell]

A link for those who don't know of his life and work:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/book...rgan-universal

[Janice D. Soderling]

Thanks for posting this, Steve.

Ah, his famous sestina

Siesta of a Hungarian Snake:


s sz sz SZ sz SZ sz Zs zs Zs zs zs z

Anthologized in Short and Sweet: 101 Very Short Poems (ed. Simon Armitage)

[Tim Murphy]

I'm very, very sorry to hear this. He was the real deal.

[John Whitworth]

Indeed he was, Tim. I recommend his Collected Poems to anyone - witty, inventive, never settling into a rut. A snip at a tenner. Go out and BUY it. You won't like EVERYTHING but you'll like a good bit.

An Enormous Yes, as Larkin said - though not about him of course.

[Steve Bucknell]

The Loch Ness Monster’s Song.

Sssnnnwhuffffll?
Hnwhuffl hhnnwfl hnfl hfl?
Gdroblboblhobngbl gbl gl g g g g glbgl
Drublhaflablhaflubhafgabhaflhafl fl fl –
gm grawwwww grf grawf awfgm graw gm.
Hovoplodok-doplodovok-plovodokot-doplodokosh?
Splgraw fok fok splgrafhatchgabrlgabrl fok splfok!
Zgra kra gka fok!
Grof grawff gabf?
Gombl mbl b !-
blm plm,
blm plm,
blm plm,
blp

Edwin Morgan. Collected Poems. Carcanet 1990.

[Orwn Acra]

His poetry was so much fun and I'm so glad he existed. He had the rare talent of successfully mixing the avant-garde with a "pop" aesthetic.

Canedolia, an off-concrete Scotch fantasia

oa! hoy! awe! ba! mey!

who saw?
rhu saw rum, garve saw smoo. nigg saw tain. lairg saw lagg.
rigg saw eigg. largs saw haggs. tongue saw luss. mull saw yell.
stoer saw strone. drem saw muck. gask saw noss. unst saw cults.
echt saw banff. weem saw wick. trool saw twatt.

how far?
from largo to lunga from joppa to skibo from ratho to shona from
ulva to minto from tinto to tolsta from soutra to marsco from
braco to barra from alva to stobo from fogo to fada from gigha to
gogo from kelso to stroma from hirta to spango.

what is it like there?
och it's freuchie, it's faifley, it's wamphray, it's frandy, it's sliddery.

what do you do?
we foindle and fungle, we bonkle and meigle and maxpoffle. we
scotstarvit, armit, wormit, and even whifflet. we play at crosstobs,
leuchars, gorbals, and finfan. we scavaig, and there's aye a bit of
tilquhilly. if it's wet, treshnish and mishnish.

what is the best of the country?
blinkbonny! airgold! thundergay!

and the worst?
scrishven, shiskine, scrabster, and snizort.

listen! what's that?
catacol and wauchope, never heed them.

tell us about last night
well, we had a wee ferintosh and we lay on the quiraing. it was pure strontain!

but who was there?
petermoidart and craigenkenneth and cambusputtock and
ecclemuchty and corriehulish and balladolly and altnecanny and
clauchanvrechan and strocnachlochan and auchenlachar and
tighnacrankie and tilliebruaich and killieharra and invervannach
and achnatudlem and machrishellach and inchtamurchan and
auchterfechan and kinlochculter and ardnawhallie and
invershuggle.

and what was the toast?
schiehallion! schiehallion! schiehallion!