May: Loaded by Gillian Allnutt
Gillian Allnutt might just be the finest living British poet you’ve never had the chance to hear about. It should be noted though that many modern-day poets remain unknown to much of the public. Yet, when it comes to Allnutt, this discrepancy appears even more pronounced; she has received prestigious accolades such as the Cholmondeley Award and The Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry, yet remains largely unrecognized beyond poetry circles. In 2016, during an event where Queen Elizabeth II bestowed upon her the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry at Buckingham Palace, the main reportage was provided by the Daily Express, whose focus surprisingly centered around a £30 electric heater seen in accompanying photographs rather than her literary accomplishments.
It seems likely that Allnutt wasn’t bothered about such concerns. Her poetry focuses on the unnoticed and the simple, frequently touching upon themes like family life, the period following World War II (given her birth year of 1949), historical depictions of women, and the scenery near her residence in County Durham. Her verses exhibit a deliberate yet engaging brevity, leading some readers to mistakenly perceive them as simplistic. A reviewer once derogatorily labeled these works as “fragments,” failing to grasp the complexity and enjoyment derived from her poems’ tentative structures. In certain instances, for example within the poem titled “Lost” serving as an introduction to her most recent publication, she crafts miniature, radiant symbols: “A man clutching a garden / gate under his arm, / meandering outside Paradise.”
Lode, her 10th collection, opens with “Audience”, drawn from that Palace visit. The poet is “shyness, common and small”, while the late Queen is both “majestic, merciful, / the moon’s own soul”, and yet also a “poor soul” who “must have acquainted herself with every holt and bolt-hole / of it…” The poem is typical: internal rhyme, quiet wit; an odd, disarming vision. It’s typically audacious, too. Whose audience is this?
Allnutt stands as one of the rare poets whose writing truly “thinks poetically,” a statement frequently made by critics yet seldom substantiated. She places faith in the melody within her prose, along with fragments from sayings and sacred texts, allowing these rhythmic cues to guide her composition. In “A Poem for John Clinging,” she explores the passing of her maternal uncle, who was a “seafarer.”
RAF Lancaster
In 1943, “About you, John, there were no traces left — / just fragments of your skin and bones.” Despite this, the poem continues gracefully with the “nothingness” carried forward: “Thus, when eventually my mother assisted me in laying her to rest, I embraced you within the contemplation of my own heart.” It concludes affectionately as memories are tenderly recalled and shared with her mother: “‘You would have appreciated him,’ she frequently told me. I believe I would have too.”
The final statement epitomizes Allnutt’s style: simple language rendered powerful. She transforms the ordinary into something uncanny, revisiting similar motifs, topics, and vocabulary without ever depleting their impact. As she penned in 2005, “I’ve begun to sense that Earth feels like a place of banishment, and acknowledging this becomes the sole form of belonging we can achieve in our existence.”
That challenge, which stems from a
Christian tradition
The concluding part of “Lode” is shaped by these verses. According to the publisher’s summary, these poems represent a “foray into the newly Unknown,” though this description may not be entirely clarifying. It’s not strictly mystical; rather, it presents a lifestyle that acknowledges human impermanence. In the last piece titled “Sea Change,” readers are encouraged to shed “the solitary isolation akin to divine protection, / the enclosed cluster defined by terms.” Conversely, the poem proposes adopting “a shell composed of calcium carbonate”—which refers to free-swimming sea organisms as noted—suggesting, “much like them / you might transform into / custodian of the earth.”
With less skilled handling, the choice of words and concepts might seem overly delicate. However, Allnutt approaches this with a pragmatic mindset. The phrase “as if like them” leaves us uncertain about making such a connection. Specifically, the term “hoard” recurs often as it evokes deep personal introspection for her; yet, at the same time, it signifies something communal. This leads to an auditory progression stemming from “God” and “word,” each embedding additional terms (“hid,” “heard,” “world”) inside their structure.
Allnutt’s poetry oscillates between lightheartedness and severity, oddity and obscurity—qualities that could be considered quintessentially English, drawing parallels with poets like Stevie Smith, Geoffrey Hill, and Peter Didsbury. However, Allnutt ultimately stands apart from direct comparisons. ‘Lode’ does not diverge from her earlier work seen in “Blackthorn” (1994). Yet, this new volume has the potential to attract a broader audience towards her distinctive style, and these readers would indeed benefit greatly from exploring it.
JW
Lode is released by Bloodaxe for £12. To purchase your copy for £10.99, call 0330 173 0523 or go to
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April: Wellwater by Karen Solie
There is no returning.
Karen Solie
In “Red Spring,” a meticulously crafted poetic outburst about the devastation of rural landscapes at the hands of greedy conglomerates (specifically, the chemical behemoth Bayer), one can hear the recurring theme echoing throughout Wellwater, the esteemed Canadian poet’s sixth anthology—a nearly unbearably exquisite volume. Solie skillfully explores themes such as farming, existential musings, bereavement, scenery, melody, and more via the lens of “the pop and chips and the gift of the periphery” which now defines her artistic domain.
Her early life in rural Saskatchewan is depicted through images of her time on the family farm, where she would visit the well “anointed with baby oil,” as well as her experiences in the shopping centers – including the wave pool – of Edmonton. These scenes are portrayed with tenderness, realism, and poignancy. In the titular verse, Solie reflects: “I didn’t realize what I possessed back then; ‘the water was pure enough for drinking.'” The poems capture the subtle embarrassments associated with adolescence and relocation, entering into renting arrangements, navigating an age marked by “means to an end,” and dealing with household items seen as superfluous for people like them.
Solie is a brilliant cartographer of the feckless and the careless, of the ways in which inhumanity has an impact on the minutiae of our daily lives. It’s visible, for instance, in the “suicide seeds” – seeds genetically modified to be infertile past a certain point – that seem to find their way into everything, including the bread on our table; it’s visible too in the “vulgar muffins, overstuffed as geese” that she sees as avatars of the 21st century, redolent “of a culture on the brink / of steep decline”.
There is an element of Elizabeth Bishop—though perhaps I favor her slightly more—in Solie’s tendency nearly to efface herself. Regarding a brief stint in another uninviting flat, she notes: “My host wrote afterward online that it seemed like nobody had even stayed.” While stepping back, she doesn’t withdraw entirely. The admission that “all I’ve ever wished for is to observe things exactly as they are,” gains further depth with the subsequent line: “And once I did, my experiences were reduced to such specific truths they couldn’t be undone.” This added layer underscores what she expresses elsewhere—that knowledge cannot substitute for the actual moments through which we gain understanding—which raises Solie’s work above simple enumeration or straightforward documentation, transforming it instead into a refined alchemy where expertise intertwines with magic.
The enchantment is beyond measure. Solie stands out as a masterful creator of phrases, comparisons, blends of expressions, and concise sayings—a convergence of talents that generates imagery, turns of phrase, and entire compositions that leave one astounded. “You have no idea/the occurrences hidden beneath the steps of someone/whose solitude lies in self-destructive acts”; “I am my very own tranquil grove hummed with bees/in the vibrant field of symptoms”; “She has broken free/from the window of her body’s dwelling of pain/into the liberty of a truth destined to go unrecognized”. Many literary journeys do not gather the multitude of outstanding lines found so effortlessly throughout Solie’s work. Some pieces, like “Dust” and “Yarrow,” hold such profound cumulative impact when read entirely that singling out individual verses seems unjustified.
WellWater confronts history, though perhaps not complete tranquility. The collection carries a profound nostalgic undertone directed at family members, acquaintances, and more recently, the poet’s father. “Restarting isn’t an option,” Solie articulates; yet within this work lies our closest attempt through written word to resurrect those who have passed. As she states, “To comprehend harm enables its straightforward communication”; despite the complexity of various mechanisms employed throughout her verses—shifting tones and intricate syntax—the resulting emotion evokes Lead Belly’s sentiment: “a feeling so basic it could terrify anyone.” Thus, WellWater stands both daunting and skillful—a frightening masterpiece according to my view, where Solie demonstrates unparalleled excellence in poetic craft.
DR
Declan Ryan’s first poetry book is titled “Crisis Actor.” The publication, named Wellwater, is released by Picador for £12.99. You can get it ordered for £10.99 by calling 0330 173 0523 or visiting their website.
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March: Pink Dust by Ron Padgett
Ron Padgett’s newest poetry anthology borrows its name from a vintage, circular eraser that disperses a delicate “pink dust” onto paper. This emblematic symbol encapsulates much of the wizardry with which Padgett crafts his poems, transforming ordinary items and everyday activities into moments of profound wonder. Within this captivating compilation, one piece likens the duration of life to sipping tea during an afternoon. Another draws a parallel between existence and a poet’s notebook nearing exhaustion of unused sheets.
A regular translator of French Surrealist poetry, Padgett has spent many years reinventing that movement’s well-known preoccupation with dream logic within his sardonic and frequently Zen-inspired works about everyday, conscious life. Engaging with his succinct, straightforward, and often humorous verses can feel akin to participating in a lesson on mindfulness. One tranquil piece from “Pink Dust” envisions a world devoid of humans where everything exists as pure reality. Yet, according to Padgett, sustaining this untainted clarity demands leaving behind all forms of egocentrism. He warns readers in “Pink Dust,” urging them, “Be bold enough to articulate your internal thoughts privately inside your head but remember not everyone desires hearing these reflections.”
In 1942, Padgett was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and later relocated to
New York City
At the age of 18, he was often labeled as part of the “New York School poets,” a broad term applied to various artists active during New York City’s vibrant post-war downtown art movement. However, having grown up in America’s middle-class Southwest, his early influences came more from popular songwriters like Western Swing creator Bob Wills and folk singer-songwriter Woody Guthrie, who chronicled life during the Dust Bowl era. Later, he connected with Walt Whitman’s inclusive style of writing. By the time he turned 22, in 1964, Padgett had released his debut collection titled *In Advance of a Broken Arm*. Over subsequent years, he authored more than two dozen volumes of work and received critical acclaim including being nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry—first for *How Long* in 2012, and again in 2016 when he crafted new verses for an actor.
Adam Driver’s
a bus driver who is also a poet in the highly praised Jim Jarmusch movie, Paterson.
Pink Dust” brims with optimism and sharp wit—even in serialized pieces such as “Geezer” and “Lockdown,” where the poet delves into reflections about their own mortality and the frustration of being confined during lockdown.
Covid-19 pandemic
As usual, Padgett’s gloomy themes are lightened by his characteristic avoidance of piety and self-importance; or, as one poem puts it, our modern society’s “petty, sorrowful joy / of being correct.”
The verses explore the confusion brought about by retrospect and growing older, with Padgett candidly acknowledging, “I realized my idols / were merely kids pretending to be adults.” Despite this harsh reality, such insights are interspersed with instances of youthful amazement. The poet recounts memories of schoolyard tricks, amateur scientific endeavors conducted in the backyard, and the surreal joy experienced when smoking a foreign cigarette that sparked within him “a touch of Mexican infinitude.”
Throughout, however, previous losses continue to loom large. In “Star Joe,” Padgett remembers his deceased friend, artist and avant-garde memoirist Joe Brainard, with the poem’s narrator plunging into the dizziness of reminiscence where “[…] I switch/from inside this page/to beyond it, inside,/then back again […].” Another touching piece envisions Padgett’s late parents peering through “a window” at their own identities, catching sight of themselves mirrored in their son—a notion the poet eventually undercuts, admitting, “[…] but it never happened, / and each one remained / as they hadn’t thought”. Queries about mortality and faith permeate everyday details. A different verse contemplates what sort of memoir Jesus might have penned had He not been preoccupied “with being Jesus.”
Through this seemingly easy yet thorough examination of individuals, speech, and objects around them, “Pink Dust” primarily invites readers to pause; encouraging us to consider whether we could also perceive everything surrounding us, regardless of where or what they may be. This act allows unnoticed wonders within ordinary scenes to evoke a peculiar delight — for instance, Padgett’s depiction of leaves being blown about which he compares to scampering chipmunks: “they skittered across the lawn / akin to chipmunks.” Similarly, in one verse capturing a wintry scene from Vermont, curtains pulled over a window create such an eerie impression that their significance rivals even that concealed under falling snow.
TK
Tim Keane is the author of Alphabets of Elsewhere. Pink Dust is published by NYRB Poets at £14.99. To order your copy for £12.99, call 0330 173 0523 or visit
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February: Frank: Sonnets and Contemporary Poetry by Diane Seuss
Diane Seuss stands out alongside Terrance Hayes as one of the most significant American poets of the past decade. With a background in social work, she has gained recognition across six poetry collections for her unflinching exploration of personal experiences. During a discussion with poet Hanif Abdurraqib last year, she shared insights into her creative approach: “I thrive on motion and immersion in daily life… It combats solitude when my ideas can diverge from what I’m doing.” However, she also acknowledges the importance of embracing solitude, stating, “It’s crucial for my writing not to disrupt this isolation.”
This method has led to Seuss receiving numerous accolades. Her previous work, “frank: sonnets,” was awarded the 2022 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. Both this publication and her latest release, “Modern Poetry,” are being made available in the UK through an independent publishing house.
Fitzcarraldo Editions
, which is just beginning to venture into poetry publishing.
The title suggests that Frank O’Hara serves as the guiding influence behind “frank.” This work maintains an open and candid narrative style, offering a dynamic portrayal of the last several decades of Seuss’s life journey—from her early years in rural Michigan all the way through to more recent times.
New York
The punk scene of the late ’70s, followed by a return to small-town America, exposes her to addiction, watching friends succumb to AIDS, and the immense effort required merely to survive. Similar to O’Hara’s style, her work embodies a deep appreciation for life amidst conditions marked by hardship, turmoil, and suffering. Additionally, she has a knack for capturing breathtaking imagery: “Even gravestones bend and rise / like waves, while coffins resemble tiny unruly vessels sailing toward love’s distant bank.”
These pieces are indeed sonnets as well. Though they may differ from the classic Shakespearean or Petrarchan forms, Dr. Seuss employs 14 lines—“a single frame in a lengthy reel / of film”—to explore ideas thoroughly, with twists and shifts in perspective. The work includes both highbrow and popular culture allusions; for instance, one poem makes reference to
Gauguin
’s Christ and the Velvet Underground within a few clauses – are blended with childhood memories into thrilling, emotional payoffs. It’s an intense, totalising read; unflinching in the difficulty it depicts and still, somehow, uplifting. “I belong nowhere, have / never belonged anywhere, not where I was raised, not where I was not raised / … / poems are someone else’s clothes I slipped / into so I could skip town.” You can see the book becoming a cult text.
Contemporary poetry offers readers ample room to pause and reflect. Drawing inspiration from a poetry anthology titled “Modern Poetry” that she encountered during her youth, it serves as a succinct chronicle of Seuss’s journey through literature and self-discovery. This narrative highlights how these experiences have equipped her with resilience to endure and thrive in an unfriendly environment. She approaches her readings judiciously; as expressed in ‘My Education’, “While going through much of Joseph Conrad, I realized / That certain aspects might be distasteful yet necessary / For my purpose. The aim behind all this effort? It was simply / To shape my own existence.”
Occasionally, it feels like you’re listening in on a lively lecture; it’s energizing to witness her dismantling the pretense commonly linked with crafting poetry. Although the primary style throughout the book leans towards free verse, Seuss isn’t hesitant to employ her techniques in manners hinting at an underlying theory of poetic artistry. She initiates ‘Comma’ with:
To never feel touch again. That sentence
It has a noise. Can you hear it?
I don’t wish to introduce a narrative
There isn’t even an image for it.
It produces a noise. Hear it.
Part of Seuss’s importance lies in her ability to write “Of the
working class
My course covers both physical discomforts and mental wealth; it delves into ideas, principles, and modest accomplishments. There’s no glossing over the difficulties or underlying brutality she may have witnessed. Her steadfast belief that “objectivity itself—now that was beautiful” allows us to experience a distinct form of Romantic verse, weathered yet acutely aware that “perhaps there exists / a charm in approaching ever closer. / Closer still, right up to the side of the bed where the decaying / universe lies.”
With her formidable voice, Seuss is one of the most important poets writing now. But that’s a claim she would, no doubt, puncture and yet also agree with: “I had no God-given authority. / I had to self-generate it, like God. / At some point, God had to take the leap / to become God.”
RD
Rishi Dastidar’s most recent poetry collection is Neptune’s Projects. Modern Poetry and frank: sonnets are published by Fitzcarraldo at £12.99 each. To order your copy, call 0330 173 0523 or visit
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January: Inside Me Dwells a YoungGirl Who Refuses to Fade Away by Tove Ditlevsen
“There resides within me a young girl who shall never perish,” she pens down.
Tove Ditlevsen
in a line that gives its poem, and this collection, their titles. “She is no longer me and I am no longer her / but she stares back at me when I look in the mirror / searching for something she hopes to recover.” Many of the poems here, newly translated from Danish by Jennifer Russell and Sophia Hersi Smith, seem to circle a young girl who is both her and not-her, who lives on and doesn’t quite. Past and present overlap in unexpected ways. What is she hoping to recover?
Ditlevsen took her own life at the age of 58 in 1976. She was among the most renowned authors in Denmark; however, she gained recognition amongst English-speaking audiences only after the publication of an English version of her acclaimed Copenhagen Trilogy (1967-71).
finished and released in 2021
. Comprising a trio of memoirs, Childhood, Youth and Dependency, it chronicles Ditlevsen’s childhood in a stifling working-class environment; her marriages and love affairs; her intense drive to write; and her eventual descent into harrowing addictions to painkillers and alcohol. Her prose is plain and unadorned; she doesn’t shy from observations that feel harsh, bordering on cruel. She purports to know the darkest stuff of life, and to share it like a weather report: “Childhood is long and narrow like a coffin. You can’t get out of it on your own.”
However, Ditlevsen once noted that many of her most significant works were written in verse. “There Lives a Young Girl in Me Who Will Not Die,” the initial English rendition of these poems, commences with excerpts from “A Girl’s Mind,” which came out in 1939 when she was just 21 years old, and concludes with pieces from “To a Little Girl,” released posthumously in 1978. Across this collection, readers can trace the evolution of her distinctive poetic style—from conventional rhymes and structures towards increased use of enjambment and notably briefer lines. The imagery grows increasingly abstract over time. Novel themes surface; divorce, for example, enters later but evolves into one of her strongest poetic topics. Recurring subjects include anxieties related to mental health issues like depression, along with desires for liberation from duties. She refers to destructive love—”loving poorly”—as an enduring theme too: craving closeness followed by repulsion. “Often I hope he will go away,” she expresses sorrowfully, adding, “so becoming clearly closer.”
This recurring theme isn’t just redundancy; it encapsulates Ditlevsen’s artistic identity. Her work continually explores the intricate interplay between her past self and current persona. Shadows from her youth permeate these pages—her parents, their home streets, an entire vanished universe that feels eerily alive within her narrative. While she delves into what society often terms as “trauma”—how early life injuries mold adult experiences and how such burdens can span across generations—she presents this cycle in a more vibrant, somber, and surreal light compared to typical depictions of trauma.
In one poem, she describes the way she turned away from her mother, disgusted by her smell; her mother “gave up once and for all / on the project of loving me”. Her own children then seem to turn away from her, as though she had taken on her mother’s smell – and her son, now, is fond of his grandmother. “Love often / skips a generation –” she writes, matter-of-fact; but that dash hangs like an open door, gesturing at the estrangement and heartbreak that might lie beyond.
“In the prolonged darkness of childhood’s night / glow small, dancing lamps”: such is how an initial verse in this compilation starts. This could very well encapsulate Ditlevsen’s strength—rising out of childhood’s casket and holding these lamps near those perplexing instances when past meets present. At her finest, her poetry reads as revelations, transforming her existence repeatedly.
SH
A young girl resides within me who refuses to die, published by Penguin for £9.99. To obtain your copy, dial 0330 173 0523 or go to their website.
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