PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Sasha Dugdale, Intimacy and other poems Eugene Ostashevsky, The Feeling Sonnets Nyla Matuk, The Resistance Alex Wylie, Democratic Rags Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Two poems from the archive
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review Blog
Monthly Carcanet Books

This report is taken from PN Review 236, Volume 43 Number 6, July - August 2017.

Passionate Announcements…
from a Concealed Being
Frank Kuppner
1. No. How could we possibly be a form of the past, disguised? And the present, such as it is, whatever it is, whatever it was, is also in no sense the future in hiding. Innumerable, even in the most rudimentary theory, are the immanent possibilities (though now inevitably not imminent) which were never in fact going to emerge into existence, whoever those incalculable streams of people might have been, developing instead into our otherwise filled or unfilled spaces – and whatever we now do (even those of us who for some reason or other are trying to conceal ourselves) we contain materially within the physical structures that we actually are (rather than merely inhabit) the (so to speak) amalgamatable constituents of barely intuited collisions of hordes of other persons – why not just as lovable, (in)adequate, unique, troubled, loud, brilliant as ourselves, as any other real people? – for which the required (e-?)merging and collusion of constituents simply did not quite eventuate, whether the miss was uncomfortably close or hemispherically, exponentially remote. Yes. Yes… Right… Fine… Well – that’s enough for now, I hope. I trust that at least sets out the general position sufficiently clearly. (Not that anything ever quite could, of course… Still… Time to live at least. (Or love at last. (Or, at any rate, leave without looking back. (Yes. What was that? A sudden cry of ‘Stop!’(?)))

2. But where to (re)start? Certainly it is remarkable, the way in which it turns out that these babies and nurslings ...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image