Quote of the Day
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Two Carcanet poets, Charles Tomlinson and Stephen Rodefer pass away
We are deeply saddened by the news of the deaths of two former Carcanet poets - Charles Tomlinson and Stephen Rodefer , who both died on Saturday 22nd August 2015. read more
C.K. Stead new Poet Laureate of New Zealand
Carcanet is delighted to announce that C.K. read more
Sinead Morrissey reads from T S Eliot Prize-winning Parallax at the Royal Fesitval HallListen
Welcome to Carcanet Press, one of the outstanding independent literary publishers of our time. Now in its fifth decade, Carcanet publishes the most comprehensive and diverse list available of modern and classic poetry in English and in translation, as well as a range of inventive fiction, Lives and Letters and literary criticism.
Poem of the Day
There is no kindness in me here. I ache to be kind, but the weatherTaken from 'New Poetries II'...
Makes me worse. I burrow and sneer. I stay small, low, cheap, squander
All signs of the thaw by screwing my eyes. It's easier in the dark.
Defeat is the colour of morning, the grey that engenders the honeymoon flats
And the chess-board of rice-fields between this block and that.
Each field is marked
For the administering of cement, this month or the next.
I am living in boom, before the door-frames are in or the drive-ways drawn.
The new exit from the station to the South
Makes Nagoya spread, calls it out further than one city's insatiable mouth
Could dream. Factories chew through a mountain beyond my window
And each time I look at it it's less. In the world before the war
This place was famous: a stopping-house for the tired and sore.
There was one road only in Japan, and all who walked it walked through
This town. There are photographs of women in an amber light
Stopped dead in their surprise at being captured as the image of a time.
Behind them all, the mountain rises white.
They say it stayed so all Winter long, a shut door to the North.
The snow scatters now without it. When all the fields are town,
The mountain, stones, it will be Spring, and I'll be called on
To be generous. There will be days when fruit-trees, like veterans
Left standing here and there in pools of shade, will forget about use and bloom.
The Carcanet Blog 'Order battling anarchy': the state of contemporary poetry and the PN Review relaunch read more Praise for the Siesta: Done with Down Time by Iain Bamforth read more Age of Exploration: Lyrics and the Lyrical, Poetry and Performance by Richard Price read more 'Gringos need not apply': questions of race in contemporary poetry read more Dollhouse on Fire by Sheri Benning read more At Tynemouth by Helen Tookey read more
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