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The Egg of Zero
The Egg of Zero
The Egg of Zero
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The Egg of Zero

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The zero at the heart of these poems is not nothing -not simply absence, forgetting or loss, though there are moving elegies among them. This is a not-quite-definable O that gives surprising edge to life and language round it. Direct, meditative, playful, hyper-alert, Philip Gross's distinctively wide range of tones work together in a subtle, searching collection that addresses both the mind and heart. These poems explore the spaces that can open between buildings in a city street, in the shifting lights of love and ageing, or in the gaps between words. Heady and sobering, unsettling, celebratory, they come home with findings from the real world of the senses, heart and mind. Philip Gross won the T.S. Eliot Prize for his 2009 collection The Water Table.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 27, 2014
ISBN9781780370132
The Egg of Zero
Author

Philip Gross

Born in Cornwall, son of an Estonian wartime refugee, Philip Gross has lived in Plymouth, Bristol, and latterly South Wales, where he was Professor of Creative Writing at Glamorgan University (USW). His 27th collection, The Thirteenth Angel (2022), is a Poetry Book Society Recommendation, and is shortlisted for the T.S. Eliot Prize 2022. It follows eleven previous books with Bloodaxe, including Between the Islands (2020), A Bright Acoustic (2017), Love Songs of Carbon (2015), winner of the Roland Mathias Poetry Award and a Poetry Book Society Recommendation; Deep Field (2011), a Poetry Book Society Recommendation; The Water Table (2009), winner of the T.S. Eliot Prize 2009; and Changes of Address: Poems 1980-1998 (2001), his selection from earlier books including The Ice Factory, Cat’s Whisker, The Son of the Duke of Nowhere, I.D. and The Wasting Game. Since The Air Mines of Mistila (with Sylvia Kantaris, Bloodaxe Books, 1988), he has been a keen collaborator, most recently with artist Valerie Coffin Price on A Fold in the River (2015), with poet Lesley Saunders on A Part of the Main (2018), and with Welsh-language bardd Cyril Jones on Troeon/Turnings (2021). I Spy Pinhole Eye (Cinnamon Press, 2009), with photographer Simon Denison, won the Wales Book of the Year Award 2010. He received a Cholmondeley Award in 2017. Philip Gross's poetry for young people includes Manifold Manor, The All-Nite Café (winner of the Signal Award 1994), Off Road to Everywhere (winner of the CLPE Award 2011) and the poetry-science collection Dark Sky Park (shortlisted for the CLiPPA award 2019).

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    Book preview

    The Egg of Zero - Philip Gross

    PHILIP GROSS

    THE EGG OF ZERO

    The zero at the heart of these poems is not nothing – not simply absence, forgetting or loss, though there are moving elegies among them. This is a not-quite-definable O that gives surprising edge to life and language round it. Direct, meditative, playful, hyper-alert, Philip Gross’s distinctively wide range of tones work together in a subtle, searching collection that addresses both the mind and heart.

    These poems explore the spaces that can open between buildings in a city street, in the shifting lights of love and ageing, or in the gaps between words. Heady and sobering, unsettling, celebratory, they come home with findings from the real world of the senses, heart and mind.

    Cover photograph by Simon Denison

    Philip Gross

    THE EGG OF ZERO

    Once and for all –

    to save dedicating every other poem in this book:

    To Zélie

    ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

    Acknowledgements are due to the editors of the following publications in which some of these poems first appeared: Agenda, Amsterdam Review, City: Bristol in Poems (Paralalia, 2004), Leviathan Quarterly, London Magazine, Magma, New Welsh Review, Poetry, Poetry London, Poetry Review, Poetry Wales, Rattapallax, The North, The Reader, The Rialto and Vallum.

    Particular thanks are due to Nicolas McDowall of the Old Stile Press for encouragement and publication, as The Abstract Garden (2006), of my collaboration with engraver Peter Reddick which was the genesis of several poems in this book.

    Also to Evie Wyld for a line in ‘Survivors’, to Bridget Thomas for some choice words in ‘The Old Order’, to Judy Kendall for the Japanese in ‘Translated’, and to Jeremy and Mario for their incisive, often opposite, advice.

    CONTENTS

    Title Page

    Dedication

    Acknowledgements

    Having Built the Pleasure Dome

    Fire Forms

    Translucence

    Great Western

    Every Last Thing

    Well You May Ask

    The Assembled

    Big Snow

    Day One

    Plymouth Hoe, with Aunt G.

    Thin Houses

    The City Between

    Mnemonic

    The Age We Are

    A Chance of Dragons

    Sailors

    Rock Stump in the Desert

    Red Kites Rising

    Itch

    Seedfall

    Out of Town

    Still Falling

    Lachrymans

    Floating World

    Chalk Form, with Erosion

    Next to Nothing

    The Long Walkers

    A Prospect of Goole

    The Old Order

    Mosquito Music

    Scenes from the Never Movies

    Her Cake, and Eating It

    Unburglars

    Opera Bouffe

    Survivors

    A Poppy in Black

    Laundry Night

    A God’s-Eye-View

    The Life of It

    The Quakers of Pompeii

    Thirty Seconds on the Baltic.

    Last Days

    Shell Forms

    The Abstract Garden

    The Channel

    Tree Form: Baobab

    Translated

    One Thing

    Still Life with Commas

    0

    Jizz

    About the Author

    Copyright

    Having Built the Pleasure Dome

    And now it’s done

             unmake it,

                      ripping screens and furnishings away.

    (Almost too much

             to consider the hand-

                     and eye-work that went in

    to all this lumber.)

             Leave the walls and door-

                      and window-sockets bare

    for what light will,

             for the small rains and sparrows,

                          and there, dead centre on the floor

    (you can’t get round it)

             leave the stone, one plain

                     unwrought jack-naked block (no

    labels, not a word

             of explanation) like a tiny mountain

                      that shrinks all the building round it

    to perspective, or an empty chest

             turned deftly inside

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