Issue 336 16th May 2014

Do you know much about Old Tyme Music Hall? Or, Roman History, Train Spotting, or Antique Silver Hallmarks?

Is Sport (golf, football, swimming, cricket) your area of expertise? Ever thought of writing a BLOG?

Considered sharing your knowledge with a wide readership? If so, why not send in something for this bulletin?

Avoid becoming a one-trick-pony ... try writing something different ... Spread your writing wings ... It‟s fun ...

2

How wonderful! How enlightened! How civilized! A bearded person from

Austria wearing a lovely frock won the Eurovision Song contest by singing a

smashing song ... Restores one‟s faith in human nature ...

Gone are the days when clothes were so expensive they would be passed

down through families and altered before, when virtual rags, were finally

picked apart and sewed into rugs or quilts.

Experience is a hard teacher: the test comes first, the lesson comes after.

Random words : pencil, mobile, tasty, gram, manuscript, foun-tain, trapeze, care, pen, safety net Assignment : holiday or starting over

Globalisation

has been going on for thousands

of years. It‟s not a new phenomenon.

It is a progression.

Actually, it‟s 50% longer not 33-&-a-bit% longer.

Tricky things hard sums, aren‟t they?

4

The Gardening Tips series was produced by well known local gardening expert Mrs. FM Hartley as monthly gardening items which featured on an audio news-tape produced locally for partially sighted people. (Link To Stafford & Stone Talking Newspaper. Link To R.N.I.B.)

As such the articles are meant to be read individually and not as chapters of a book. The articles were written over a period of some 7 years. RBW is absolutely delighted that Mrs Hartley has agreed to some of her words of wisdom (assisted by Alan) being reproduced for our benefit.

Gardening Tips For The Week Ending 8th January 2012.

Hello Folks All the best wishes for the New Year to everyone. Don‟t forget that these days most of the garden centres have a collection point for Christmas trees when they are finished with, as do many councils. They are, I believe, put through a big shredder and the resulting chippings are then used as a mulch in the council parks and gardens, giving back to the land what has been taken out. We have a small shredder and any dead branches, or any other pruning from small shrubs or trees, are shredded and used on our borders and also on our allotments between the fruit bushes as a weed suppressant. I know you shouldn‟t walk on the soil, but a carpet of chippings between bushes is also better to walk on, than bare soil, and it lets you get up close to the bushes. Just a word of warning though, you probably shouldn‟t shred your own Christmas tree because the pine needles are very acidic and may poison the soil for many types of plants unless they are well mixed in with other chippings.

We are still eating our own Curly Kale, Artichokes, Pink Fir Apple Potatoes, Kohl Rabbi and Turnips. You may not know, but Kale is supposed to be very good for the eyesight and is be-ing recommended by opticians. Artichokes are said to be good for the kidneys, although I don‟t know whether they would do much for us 90 + years old, but it might be worth younger people eating them. It is Jerusalem Artichokes that grow in the ground like potatoes not the Globe which look like Thistle flower

heads. They are easy to prepare with no scraping or peeling, just a bit of rub and then put them in boiling water for about 20 minutes; or you can roast them after a short boil, like potatoes. The very small Artichokes and Pink Fir Apple Potatoes that are too small to bother with will be saved and potted to grow on and be planted out for next years crop. Kohl rabbi we

prefer to eat raw, but peeled and grated, in a salad, like you might Carrot. I like some in cheese sandwiches and find it a little moister and crisper than Carrot, but not so chewy. Everyone has their own likes and ideas though.

Alan has just bought some young Hazel trees that were being sold as ideal plants for hedging. There were about a dozen in one pot which worked out at just over £1 each plant and he has potted them all up individu-ally to grow on outside for planting later. At the same time we saw some old fashioned Blackthorn, or Prunus Spinosa that you get Sloes from. We won‟t use them to make “Sloe Gin,” but we did like the idea of some Rosa Rugosa that we also saw as you can use the berries, or Rose Hips, to make Rose Hip Syrup which was very

popular during the war.

In the Winter, flowers are in short supply from our own garden, so instead of buying expensive imported flowers I have started using my own dried instead. Back in the Autumn we cut and

hung up to dry, some Honesty, Teasels, Allium seed heads and even some herb seed heads. Oh yes, and dead aspidistra leaves lightly sprayed with a bit of Christmas spray paint look very nice and fill a few empty vases. Well that‟s all for now. Cheerio. Frances Hartley.

Does anyone know who wrote this?

6

Year 1589 : The Cast : The Queen‟s Men : a group of strolling players thrown out of London where the theatres have been closed due to an outbreak of plague. Elizabeth I was on the throne. Kit Marlowe (wordsmith/detective), Harry Swann (the murderer of the-first victim who first found the chal-ice) Samuel Burball (Owner), Peter Pecksniff, Daniel Alleynes, young Hal who plays a girl‟s role very badly. Vesta Swann, Rosie Ripp-sheet. The Boar‟s Head Tavern, Trentby: Bertha landlady, Molly Golightly, Martha Goodnight wenches. Ned the bear keeper. The Trentby Abbey of St Jude : Abbot Ranulf knows something about the missing Roman hoard of silver plate/chalice etc The Manor of Bluddschott : sodden Squire Darnley Bluddschott, wife Mis-tress Anne, daughter Penelope about to be sold off into matrimony, Mis-tress Hood seamstress, sister to Penny, Mistress Tatanya

The Sheriff‟s Castle : Magistrate Squire Humphrey Pettigrew, Black Knight, the Sheriff Burrowmere Lord Haywood, man-at-arms Richard of Hyde Leigh, a constable Daniel Smithers and a scribe Modern Day: Rick Fallon and Tommy Tip-Tip McGee** Private eyes in Trentby on case for Sir Kipling Aloysius Bluddschott (Sister Christabel) to locate silver chalice and Roman hoard of Trentby Abbey + corpse Jago Swann DI Pete Ferret and Lavender Pomeroy and Rose Rippsheet PLEASE NOTE: It is imperative that those writing for the storyline read what other writers have already written before they add a new piece. AND the year has been changed and Moll Rippsheet has become Rosie.

As Thick as Thieves „Ah mistress mine, we‟ve got all we could desire.‟ Molly retorted, „Oh really! Got a few coppers from a passing stallholder have ye?‟ „No, nay my little one. That monk who sneaked into the little old church ruins to gain

your favours for a groat.‟ „Hey you, a bit more than that, if you please. So what did the monk have left after his

tumble with me?‟ „The fall to fiery hell, my dear, for his sins.‟ „By chance‟, letting loose a sneering chuckle, „he tripped over, with the help of the

cosh that fell, merely by happenchance providence, from my upraised arm. And fell through, down into the far depths. Part of him fell into the well, another the cave be-neath, yet more down into the stream‟s cascade.‟

„And what few charitable nothings did you gain, I say again?” „A scrip bag of jewels my dear, to blind you by their sparkle, flashing like the sun. A

king‟s ransom, it is. And stashed where no-one living would think to look, until we can get away to the life of our dreams.‟

„You done away with a churchman, you‟ll be damned for sure.‟ „Like Timur the Lame, the great Tamburlaine, only our desires matter, my dear. What

care we, how.‟ Their cruel laughter joined to silence all bird song, so Harry Swann could hear as he

sat at his nature‟s call amongst gnarled great oak‟s roots, all festooned with creeper and tall fern.

A Silent Parade Harry Swann kept to the shadows afforded by twilight and

thick undergrowth of wild forest, keeping up with the new owner by dark nefarious means of plunder.

Amazed, Harry watched as the man‟s shadow ducked into the side door of chapel, down into the crypt.

Hid behind a large stone weeping angel, he espied the shadow‟s return and as a last flash of sunset‟s orange short-ened, something fell from the man‟s scrip bag lashed to his belt.

After a goodly time to ensure his passing, Harry swiftly looked about and a smile swept across Harry‟s visage from ear to ear as he picked up a gem, that sparkled in the last sun‟s ray, before he hurried back to forest cover to go the long way round to his lodgings.

Harry Swann was not the only one in the twilight dim that night, taking the air. Daniel Alleynes sat behind the great fallen oak, as high as a man even when lain low. Staying low until the footsteps of the nefarious due faded into distance, Daniel kept

close but under cover from the forest path to turn to the Boat‟s Head Tavern. As Daniel did so, he espied Harry also walking warily, but seemingly watching out for

someone before him, but going out towards the churchyard. So Daniel joined this silent parade, far back. When the shadowy miscreant had gone from his sojourn in the crypt Daniel had seen Harry‟s joy on picking something up from the ground.

Glancing back to see all was clear, Daniel came up behind Harry and knocked him

Magic Ride

There are times when you look at the world In all its infinite time and space Then you wonder how your life has Taken you to this strange, Yet familiar place Sometimes life's journey Goes at a cracking pace Before you catch your breath It's all far too late.

Reflecting the Light the new collection from Bobbie Coelho will launch on 30th May 2014

clean out by one blow to his head, dragging him swiftly down into the crypt. Keeping an ear out for any return, Daniel looked about him for any hidey hole.

On reaching up above a roofed mausoleum he came across a leather bag and upon pulling out the drawstring,

found gold necklace chains, pearls and diamonds wrapped in velvet cloth.

Ensuring Harry was lain on his stomach so the old fool did-n‟t choke, Daniel opened the door out to the churchyard a crack to see his way clear and then ran to cover of forest and night.

I found this set in a bow

window in the Castle Lodge,

a Tudor building in Ludlow,

alongside other pieces of

German stained and painted

glass:-

Writes Peter Shilston

The person depicted is Jan of Leyden, an Anabaptist (that is, an extreme radical Protestant) who led a revolt which took over the city of Munster in western Germany in 1534-35. He proclaimed himself the successor to King David and looked to the im-minent Second Coming of Christ. Eventually, after a siege, the Bishop of Munster re-gained control of the city, and Jan and two other Anabaptist leaders were tortured with red-hot pincers and then executed, "to show", in the words of H.G.Wells, "that decency had returned to Munster". The cages in which the Anabaptist leaders were confined can still be seen at the city's cathedral. Jan of Leyden became a legendary figure: a name of horror to Catholics and moder-ate Protestants for long afterwards. More than 60 years later Ben Jonson, in his play "The Alchemist", referred to two Puritan characters as "my little John Leydens". The inscription reads: "IOHAN VA LEIDEN EY KONICK DER ...EDENDOPER THO. MONSTER WAERHAFTICH ...OTER" What does this mean? And why is this piece of glass in Ludlow? I have yet to find answers to these questions. Any help would be appreciated!

Magic Ride

There are times when you look at the world In all its infinite time and space Then you wonder how your life has Taken you to this strange, Yet familiar place Sometimes life's journey Goes at a cracking pace Before you catch your breath It's all far too late.

Reflecting the Light the new collection from Bobbie Coelho will launch on 30th May 2014

10

SELF TRADE

Once long ago somebody suggested that, instead of leaving it to languish in the bank,

I invest my early retirement lump sum, and went on to persuade me that such a course was indubitably correct.

'OK' I said. 'How?' 'Self Trade,' he/she replied.

I got quite excited at first and even worked out, all by myself, that B&Q would probably be in demand as house prices were so ridiculously high and folk would be improving rather than moving. I was right, and „earned‟ £50 in the first half hour

whilst playing with grandchildren in the garden. (I know to some people this is com-monplace, but they would be playing with a stranger‟s grandchildren.) Thereafter I

lost interest, or would have done had I not delegated management to my younger son, with the words, „It‟s your children‟s inheritance,‟ which has motivated him, doting

dad that he is, to keep things ticking over sweetly for the last 15 years. However, Self Trade has recently made some changes, which necessitated a form. The filling in sort. They explained this was necessary to prevent money laundering, and seemed to me

to be on a par with the officers who demanded we open our boot before boarding the Brittany ferry and asked, „Are you carrying any bomb making equipment?‟

Now I am no different from the rest of the population when confronted by forms. Not only do I find their tick boxes inadequate, but their questions are a) ambiguous, b) repetitive, c) onerous, d) downright impertinent. Consider the following: What is your total worth?

Whilst resisting the obvious, „Above rubies,‟ I still find it impossible to answer. Do

they mean my pension? My share of the spouse‟s salary? The house? My present eco-nomic contribution as a baby minder which allows others to keep the wheels of indus-

try turning? My past contribution to the education of current workers? See what I mean? Then again, we know that behind every successful man is a woman, and al-though I draw the line at warming spousal slippers I do, as a rule, get some sort of

pottage on the table and replenish the fridge and sock drawer. I also put in hours gar-dening which must be worth something even if it‟s only measured in broad beans.

„Mark it inappropriate question,‟ says spouse. OK, what about the next one? What is your source of wealth?

Do I just say pension? Well, no, for the money invested via Self Trade came from a retirement lump sum as described above, which had depended on length of service and salary. It was topped up by the authority‟s „new blood scheme‟, which encour-

aged older teachers to retire so the LEA could save paying the increments earned by teaching experience, but maybe that‟s a detail too far. Just write down „teacher‟.

Over what time frame was the wealth generated? Why, for goodness sake? What difference does it make? Oh, all right. 50 years. Well, actually I‟ve spent most of it. Food and stuff, the odd holiday. So the wealth I‟ve actually got to invest is from my

pension. And I can only do that because the spouse is still working and paying for my dinners and hot baths and such. So is my source of wealth actually

the spouse? Well I‟m damned if I‟m putting that! Next question: Has any of your wealth been derived from employ-ment? No, I wrote. It was all from bank heists, drug smuggling and knock-ing old ladies over the head.

„Might have been better to stick to inappropriate question,‟ says spouse.

Anne Picken

Reading and positive development.

The news that researchers at the Institute for Education have discovered a link between parents

reading to their children and later academic success should not be a surprise. The benefits of read-

ing to young children are immense and not just for later literacy. The study found that cognitive

development in adolescence from 10-16 showed more links to early reading than parent's educa-

tion. It is very likely that what parents do for their children reading a book at bedtime has more

effect than any amount of later school intervention.

My own experience would certainly suggest this is so. Growing up in the Hockley slums

near Birmingham's Jewelry Quarter after the Second World War, I went to an excellent primary

school surrounded by noisy railway sidings. The school has long since been closed when the

Hockley slums were razed and rebuilt in the 1970s, but sixty years later I can still recall the faces

of the Head and Deputy Head, so great was their impact on my early life. But though the teachers

at All Saint's C of E primary were excellent, they were building on the foundations laid when my

parent's read to me every night. The teachers did not impart a love of reading. That was down to

my parents.

I passed the eleven plus, make my way through secondary school, and end up at university,

the first of my family to do so. In my progress the enthusiasm of the teachers and their skills in

laying the foundations are undeniable. But they gained immeasurably from two aspects of my

early life which are now both under threat. The first was the willingness of my parents, in the years

before television which we were too poor to own, to read and keep encouraging me with any form

of reading material – my mother in particular was crucial in introducing me to poetry. My parents

had only an elementary education and had a very limited role in gaining access to university. Their

values were however deeply ingrained before I even entered school.

However just as important was their decision, when I was around seven years old, to enrol

me in the local public library. The weekly trip to borrow books was a journey to a treasure house.

The mock gothic building still survives. Standing a stone's throw from the Camden Street back to

backs immortalised in Kathleen Dayus's absorbing memoir of life in the days of the Peaky Blind-

ers published as THE GIRL FROM HOCKLEY*, it was nearly demolished with the slums. Spring

Hill Library has never outlived its usefulness. In the last decade, the wisdom of the planners and

an opportune alliance with Tesco's has allowed the building to be retained as part of a new super-

market. It is a positive alliance of commerce and literature.

I still visit it, savouring the memories of the wet summer days when it was the place to go to

read the newspapers among the tired old men, the winter days when the warmth and glow made it

a haven in the midst of the ramshackle houses and grim pubs that were all that Hockley had to of-

fer. Radio was supplemented at home by television, but no one had ever heard of computers. For

me, nothing ever took the place of books.

However book reading and library loans are in decline. There is also worrying evidence sug-

gesting reading to children has less and less place in the parental culture. While the research of the

London Institute suggests that “the combined effect on children's progress of reading books often,

going to the library regularly and reading newspapers at 16 was four times greater than the advan-

tage children gained from having a parent with a degree”. Nevertheless, the number of parents

reading to children appears to be in decline in a 24/7 society.

It was never a universal practice. In the larger families the younger children

were brought up by older siblings. I was an only child. If my parents had had six or

more children, common in the days before contraception, would they have read to

me? There has never been a golden age of child rearing. But there was an acceptance

that it was desirable, and a recognition that public libraries were a public good, that

now is under threat. If politicians are serious about social mobility and improving

literacy and numeracy, the IoE study shows that it is outside school that the battle

has to start.

Trevor Fisher 8th May 2014

* Virago 2006

The writer is a graduate of Warwick, Birmingham and Keele universities and has written seven published books, notably OSCAR AND BOSIE A

FATAL PASSION Sutton 2002

Retirement: it‟s no long holiday... (writes SMS) A dear friend of mine retired a few years ago ... She now spends her days watching TV and waiting to die. Not for me. When my youngest finally decided to leave home the pros-pect of long empty days loomed large. I checked out a few hobby groups and even considered the U3A network, which seemed very promising and looked as if there was something on offer which was stimulating for all tastes and abilities. I‟ve kept their contacts for later. But, for now, not for me. I decided I‟d volunteer for charity work. How hard could that be? The town is bristling with charity shops. It was harder than I thought. The appli-cation forms were a nightmare. Some needed two or more referees, some wanted CRB checks, some wanted to know if one was on a government scheme for the unemployed ... Nightmare! Few asked what skills I had to offer, or if I had any medical problems they needed to be aware of ...

However, after a week or two of disappointment I was taken on. Shop work how hard could that be? I‟d been a „Saturday Girl‟ in a shop in the 1960s while at school ... Surely I‟d soon remember how it was done ... Only it wasn‟t shop work ... It was stock sorting ... To say my jaw dropped open isn‟t a dramatic exaggeration, it did actu-ally drop when confronted by a huge workroom with six bays, floor to ceiling stuffed with back bin bags full of donated goods. After three weeks I am settling in to a well oiled routine. I am learning how the multi-million pound national operation ticks: I‟ve been sorting „goods‟ from „rags‟, where rags go for collection, what can and cannot be sold, (why would anyone donate, one shoe, perished rubberised girdles, odd socks and disgusting knickers?), how to ticket, hang on the correct hanger,

price, code and steam (the steaming machine is great fun, I love it). What stock rotation is, and that is hard work, how heavy armfuls of ticketed gar-ments can be when carried up and down two flights of stairs and, more im-portantly, how lovely it is to be working again. Purely from a selfish point of view the mental and physical benefits to me have been enormous. I have met all sorts of interesting people who are also volunteering and learned new things, (a charity shop is like a swan: calm on the outside and busy, busy under the surface). I‟ve started talking again, one soon loses the knack of conversation when one spends long days with only the TV for company, and my beginner‟s efforts have been valued by the experienced team of volunteers. What is more, I am out of the house two days a week. I‟m standing

rather than sitting, I‟m going up and down flights of stairs. All this exercise has to be good for me. And very soon I will be progressing on to the shop floor where I will be upgrading my skills and learning how to use a till with all the bells and whistles ... I‟m so excited!! Hopefully, one day soon, my

escape from the life-sentence of daytime TV might even make a teaspoon‟s worth of difference to the charity I‟m allegedly helping.

12

Social Media Chuckles ... Origin unknown

Facebook image origin

unknown. If this is a genuine

image and if it hasn‟t been tampered with then

Orwell must be spinning in his grave.

(Orwell‟s iconic

1984, gave us

population control, Room 101, Big Brother, Ministry of Truth, spin doctoring of

history etc)

As part of the Dylan Thomas 100

celebrations, Cadw are partnering with

Chapter Arts Centre on a unique weekend of film screenings, poetry

readings and stop-animation workshops set in the beautiful

Laugharne Castle grounds. (Publicity Release)

Taking place within the „timeless, beautiful‟ setting of Laugharne, the Laugharne Castle Poetry and Film Festival will take place

over the long weekend of Friday 6 June – Sunday 8 June 2014.

Our exciting and innovative festival programme will include: • A special outdoor screening of the 1972 film Under Milk Wood, star-

ring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor – presented by Chapter Arts Centre within the atmospheric castle walls

• An introduction and Q&A session with the film’s director Andrew Sinclair

• NEW programmes of the best selected contemporary poetry and film from around the UK

• A stop-motion animation workshops for young people, featuring Aardman animators famous for Wallace & Gromit

• Printmaking workshops with John Abell – runner-up Welsh artist of the year 2013

• Poetry readings and talks Daytime poetryfilm screenings, workshops, poetry readings and talks 11am-4pm on the 7-8 June.

EVENING FILMS: Under Milk Wood - Friday 6 June, 7.30pm Wales/1972/87mins/NC

Dir: Andrew Sinclair. With Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Peter O’Toole

Featuring the brooding spell of Thomas‟ verse across a day in the life of a small, Welsh fishing village called Llareggub where we

meet a host of curious characters and ghosts through the eyes of Blind Captain Cat. Join us for a Q&A with Director Andrew Sin-

clair after the film Tickets – Adult £12 / Reduced £10

Edge Of Love - Saturday 7 June, 7.30pm UK/2008/110mins/15

Dir: John Maybury. With Sienna Miller, Keira Knightly

Two free-spirited women are connected by the brilliant, charismatic poet. Tickets – Adult £12 / Reduced £10

Voices - Sunday 8 June, 7.30pm In Dylan Thomas‟ day, the broadcast industry was in its infancy. It could be argued that one pow-

erful voice from Wales was enough to represent the nation. Today we live in a different world. This land has other voices. Join good

cop bad cop for a screening of a film based on an experimental performance

project celebrating how the people of contemporary Wales use their voices in

a variety of „unsung‟ Wales. Tickets – Adult £12 / Reduced £10

Tickets are available through Chapter Arts Centre. To book: 02920 304400.

During the lead-in to the event, we have also involved three schools in a po-

etry project based on Thomas‟s „Poem from October‟, working to produce a

new series of digital media projections that will be shown during the festival.

The Laugharne Castle Poetry and Film Festival has been jointly organised by

Cadw, Chapter Arts Centre, the artist Paul Evans, Longbarrow Press, cultural

producer Sara Unwin and PoetryFilm. Supported by Film Hub Wales.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/russell-edson

Russell Edson 1935–2014

Cult icon of 20th Century US poetry, often called the “godfather

of the prose poem in America,” Russell Edson‟s idiosyncratic work is populated with intriguing characters. His poems are de-

scribed as gripping and surreal. Edson once said of the writing process, “My job as a writer is mainly to edit the creative rush.

The dream brain is the creative engine… I sit down to write with a blank page and a blank mind. Wherever the organ of reality wants to go I follow with the blue-pencil of consciousness.”

Edson‟s father, Gus, was a cartoonist. Edson studied art attend-

ing the Art Students League. In the 1960s he began publishing poetry and received fellowships from the Guggenheim Founda-

tion and the National Endowment for the Arts. His collections in-clude The Brain Kitchen: Writings and Woodcuts (1965), The Clam Theatre (1973), The Wounded Breakfast: Ten Poems (1985), The Tormented Mirror (2001), The Rooster‟s Wife (2005), and See Jack (2009). Plays, including The Falling Sickness (1975), and novels Gulping's Recital (1984) & The Song of Percival Peacock (1992).

He lived in Stamford and Darien, Connecticut for many of his later years. Russell Edson died on 29th April 2014. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/182354 Link to EDSON poem: “LET US CONSIDER”

Career: Poet, playwright and novelist.

Bibliography POETRY Appearances: Fables and Drawings, Thing Press (Stamford, CT), 1961.

A Stone Is Nobody‟s: Fables and Drawings, Thing Press, 1961. The Boundry, Thing Press, 1964. The Very Thing That Happens: Fables and Drawings, New Directions, 1964.

The Brain Kitchen: Writings and Woodcuts, Thing Press, 1965. What a Man Can See, Jargon Society (Highlands, NC), 1969. The Childhood of an Equestrian, Harper (New York, NY), 1973.

The Clam Theater, Wesleyan University Press (Middletown, CT), 1973. A Roof with Some Clouds behind It, Bartholomew‟s Cobble (Hartford, CT), 1975.

The Intuitive Journey and Other Works, Harper (New York, NY), 1976. The Reason Why the Closet-Man Is Never Sad, Wesleyan University Press (Middletown, CT), 1977. Edson‟s Mentality, OINK! Press (Chicago, IL), 1977.

The Traffic, Red Ozier Press (Madison, WI), 1978. With Sincerest Regrets, Burning Deck (Providence, RI), 1980. Wuck Wuck Wuck!, Red Ozier Press (New York, NY), 1984.

The Wounded Breakfast: Ten Poems, Wesleyan University Press (Middletown, CT), 1985. The Tunnel: Selected Poems, Oberlin College Press (Oberlin, OH), 1994. The Tormented Mirror, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2001.

The Rooster‟s Wife, BOA Editions (Rochester, NY), 2007. See Jack, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2009. OTHER

The Falling Sickness (plays), New Directions (New York, NY), 1975. Gulping‟s Recital (novel), Guignol Books (Rhinebeck, NY), 1984. The Song of Percival Peacock (novel), Coffee House Press (Minneapolis, MN), 1992.

Tick Tock: Short Stories and Woodcut, Coffee House Press, 1992. Plays, poetry, and parts of novels have been published in anthologies and in Nation, Chicago Review, Prairie Schooner, Seventies, Kayak, Dragonfly, Beloit Poetry Journal, Chelsea and other periodicals.

Web image origin unknown.

Russell Edson

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