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Carcanet Press is our most courageous publisher. When you look at what they have brought out since their beginnings, it makes so many other houses seem timid or merely predictable.
Charles Tomlinson
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Caoilinn Hughes wins Shine-Strong Award
Carcanet is delighted to announce that Caoilinn Hughes was presented with the Shine/Strong Award at the Mountains to Sea dlr Book Festival on Sunday 22nd March! read more
Carcanet shortlisted for the Bookseller Industry Awards!
Carcanet is delighted to announce we have been shortlisted for the Bookseller Industry Awards in the Independent Publisher of the Year category! read more
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.
Poppies in Translation Poppies in Translation Sujata Bhatt
The Invisible Gift The Invisible Gift David Morley
The World Before Snow The World Before Snow Tim Liardet
The Midnight Letterbox The Midnight Letterbox Edwin Morgan Ed. James McGonigal and John Coyle
The Observances The Observances Kate Miller
Haunted House Haunted House Pierre Reverdy Tr. John Ashbery
As When As When Tom Raworth Ed. Miles Champion
Portraits Portraits Elaine Feinstein
Otherwise Otherwise John Dennison
Complete Poems Complete Poems Jon Silkin Ed. Jon Glover and Kathryn Jenner
Poem of the Day

What We Have Seen

Patrick Mackie

The beauty of a woman or of wise hearts, or of gentle knights
in armour; the song of birds, or a conversation about love;
bright-coloured ships moving quickly on the sea; the clear air
when dawn appears, or white snow falling without any wind;

the water in a stream, or a meadow filled with every kind of
flower; gold, silver, or the azure used in ornaments - these are
beauties, you'll agree. Yet we have seen what we have seen,
there was no looking away from it, no weeping it away,

and it is not yet time to begin again. We haven't the energy.
We've been sleeping badly recently - you know how moths
can take to blundering inanely around a bedroom for hours -
and the moon insists on changing just a little every night

to keep us on the look-out. So we remind ourselves of the comforts
no one usually thinks to mention, the pleasures of stretching all
round the bed in stages, the joys of the different levels of darkness,
the reinvention of beauty as a pet name for insomnia.
Taken from 'New Poetries II'...
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