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Next Issue Thomas Kinsella in conversation Jeffrey Wainwright comes to grips with St Chad Hsien Min Toh gives us a Korean perspective Iain Bamforth on Lou and Fritz: Sensible Shoes meets Starstruck Judith Bishop on Love and Self-Understanding in an Algorhythmic Age

This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 1 Number 1, 1973.

John Clare, Constrained David Day
JOHN CLARE, CONSTRAINED

Rime is my coat.
I have slept out all night.
Trees are happy in December dazzle.
That I live is no concern of theirs.

The sun is over Burghley House.
The master wakes and calls
Through gilded corridors. I walked
from Newark to be here.

Work is here. I felt mad to be
constricted so by tents and bugles' call.
Some told me of the river's bore.
The bowing Trent was mine as well.

Birds ran through my brain
and mice which nibbled
in the straw. Crows cawed
and settle in the wicked elms.

In sleep my nodding head was loath
...


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