David Green

David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I publish booklets of my own poems, or did. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become. It keeps me out of more trouble than it gets me into. I hope you find at least some of it worthwhile.

Friday 17 April 2015

View from the Boundary

Goodbye, A.P.

A wonderful excursion to Cheltenham yesterday included A.P. McCoy's last ride at the world's greatest sports venue. I hadn't been for 25 years but couldn't have hoped to return in better conditions. A relatively low-key, end of season meeting is the best time to go because one can get about easily and do exactly what you want to do rather than struggle for survival in a vast melee.
It is a spectacularly good place, not only for facilities, the quality of the sport and the very reasonable people there but, of course, mainly for the splendour of the setting. I reflected on how the regulars there can't be expected to understand how spoilt they are with their course, although Fontwell has its own more modest charms.
It might seem strange that McCoy's only ride of the day was a bay when he went out and a grey when he came back but closer inspection of the pictures reveals that the grey is Our Mick and Milan Bound, that A.P. is on, is obscured by those giving him a warm last round of applause.

I don't go racing much these days. It seems unnecessary to travel any distance to give money away when you can dispose of it easily enough now on the computer. But I did my homework well, with three winners and two seconds from six races so it was quite an achievement to not come out well ahead. It was a daft, last-minute loss of faith and a catastrophic change of plan that did for me.
Kingsmere was the subject of a quite audacious gamble, by my standards, at 7/1 and came round the outside, arrived at the last upsides and looking all over the winner and I felt a rare tingle as I thought I saw a wheelbarrow full of money coming my way. But he had flattered only to deceive.
Thus, with three favourites already having gone in, and the next being offered at 9/2 when I thought it would be 5/2, I defied all other available sense by changing the plan in the next, went in on the second favourite which pulled up after not very far and then watched the favourite win to land me a couple of small trebles, but only small change compared to what I might have had.
It does seem perverse to turn down a much better price than one wanted but it has a certain logic to it.
But a mighty fine time was still had by all three of us.

--

South 51

My appearances in print are about as rare as my appearances at readings these days but one of my two recent poems called Never is in South 51. Suddenly, when you realize how many others are going to read a poem, one can begin to wonder if it looks as good as it did when you wrote it and thought it worth keeping. It was with some dismay that I looked at it when the magazine arrived but, maybe not. My own poems look different to me at different times.
It's not as if it matters much. My place in English Literature isn't going to compare with the likes of Edmund Spenser, Lascelles Abercrombie or even John Hegley, so we hardly need worry. Not being widely-known and thus not being asked to do interviews is an immensely preferable situation to what A.P. McCoy (above) has been through in the last several weeks.
Sarah Williams provides a dark poem, Mark Gertler's Last Night June 1939, which is the one likely to stay in the memory longest in among the customary domestic thoughtfulness and worthy, mostly traditional work. But South does a good job as a community centre for poets, and is an open, democratic platform for those who care about their vocation and take great pleasure in it. There's nothing wrong with any of that.
One might have to take issue with the opinion piece, Erato's column, in which she questions the popularity of poetry readings. She prefers poems on the page, to contemplate in private, and, by all means nobody is going to prevent her from doing that. But the poem on the page is only half of the story because it is useful to hear a poem and always interesting to see the poet, and hear them read their own work, even if they're not particularly good at it.
Perhaps there aren't actually enough poetry readings although one must be careful what one wishes for because not all the poetry readings that there are are necessarily good ones.
However, I'm sure at least a part of the motive behind the article is to generate some discussion and so it will have served its purpose if it provokes some response.