The International Literary Quarterly

February 2010


Rose Ausländer
Charles Bernstein
Amy Bloom
Jean Boase-Beier
Carmen Bugan
Moira Burgess
Larry Butler
James Byrne
Jim Carruth
Neil Charleton
Ronald Christ
A.C. Clarke
David Dawnay
Patricia Delmar
Des Dillon
Anne Donovan
Gerrie Fellows
Cheryl Follon
Ronald Frame
Hazel Frew
Rodge Glass
David Goldie
Jane Goldman
Martin Goodman
Siobhan Harvey
Beatriz Hausner
Kusay Hussein
A.B. Jackson
Kapka Kassabova
Velimir Khlebnikov
David Kinloch
Micaela Lewitt
Zhimin Li
Gerry Loose
James McGonigal
Gerry McGrath
Donal McLaughlin
Kate McLoughlin
Andrea McNicoll
Willy Maley
Peter Manson
Laura Marney
Ernst Meister
Lina Meruane
Edwin Morgan
Ewan Morrison
Laura Muetzelfeldt
Hom Paribag
Mario Petrucci
Clare Pollard
Sheila Puri
Claire Quigley
Elizabeth Reeder
Alan Riach
Dilys Rose
Suhayl Saadi
Sue Reid Sexton
Bina Shah
Yasir Shah
Jim Stewart
Zoë Strachan
Chiew-Siah Tei
Valerie Thornton
Anthony Vivis
Marshall Walker
Zoë Wicomb
Xu Xi

40 Glasgow Voices

Volta: A Multilingual Anthology
(One poem: 82 languages)

Issue 10 Guest Artist:
John Hoyland RA

Founding Editor: Peter Robertson
Deputy Editor: Jill Dawson
Art Editor: Calum Colvin

Consulting Editors
Marjorie Agosín
Daniel Albright
Meena Alexander
Maria Teresa Andruetto
Frank Ankersmit
Rosemary Ashton
Reza Aslan
Leonard Barkan
Michael Barry
Shadi Bartsch
Thomas Bartscherer
Susan Bassnett
Gillian Beer
David Bellos
Richard Berengarten
Charles Bernstein
Sujata Bhatt
Mario Biagioli
Jean Boase-Beier
Elleke Boehmer
Eavan Boland
Stephen Booth
Alain de Botton
Carmen Boulossa
Rachel Bowlby
Svetlana Boym
Peter Brooks
Marina Brownlee
Roberto Brodsky
Carmen Bugan
Jenni Calder
Stanley Cavell
Hollis Clayson
Sarah Churchwell
Kristina Cordero
Drucilla Cornell
Junot Díaz
André Dombrowski
Denis Donoghue
Ariel Dorfman
Rita Dove
Denise Duhamel
Klaus Ebner
Robert Elsie
Stefano Evangelista
Orlando Figes
Tibor Fischer
Shelley Fisher Fishkin
Peter France
Nancy Fraser
Maureen Freely
Michael Fried
Marjorie Garber
Anne Garréta
Marilyn Gaull
Zulfikar Ghose
Paul Giles
Lydia Goehr
Vasco Graça Moura
A. C. Grayling
Stephen Greenblatt
Lavinia Greenlaw
Lawrence Grossberg
Edith Grossman
Elizabeth Grosz
Boris Groys
David Harsent
Benjamin Harshav
Geoffrey Hartman
François Hartog
Molly Haskell
Selina Hastings
Beatriz Hausner
Valerie Henitiuk
Kathryn Hughes
Aamer Hussein
Djelal Kadir
Kapka Kassabova
John Kelly
Martin Kern
Mimi Khalvati
Joseph Koerner
Annette Kolodny
Julia Kristeva
George Landow
Chang-Rae Lee
Mabel Lee
Linda Leith
Suzanne Jill Levine
Lydia Liu
Margot Livesey
Julia Lovell
Willy Maley
Alberto Manguel
Ben Marcus
Paul Mariani
Marina Mayoral
Richard McCabe
Campbell McGrath
Jamie McKendrick
Edie Meidav
Jack Miles
Toril Moi
Susana Moore
Laura Mulvey
Azar Nafisi
Martha Nussbaum
Sari Nusseibeh
Tim Parks
Clare Pettitt
Caryl Phillips
Robert Pinsky
Elena Poniatowska
Elizabeth Powers
Elizabeth Prettejohn
Martin Puchner
Kate Pullinger
Paula Rabinowitz
Rajeswari Sunder Rajan
James Richardson
François Rigolot
Geoffrey Robertson
Ritchie Robertson
Avital Ronell
Carla Sassi
Michael Scammell
Celeste Schenck
Sudeep Sen
Hadaa Sendoo
Miranda Seymour
Mimi Sheller
Elaine Showalter
Penelope Shuttle
Werner Sollors
Frances Spalding
Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak
Julian Stallabrass
Susan Stewart
Rebecca Stott
Mark Strand
Kathryn Sutherland
John Whittier Treat
David Treuer
David Trinidad
Marjorie Trusted
Lidia Vianu
Victor Vitanza
Marina Warner
David Wellbery
Edwin Williamson
Michael Wood
Theodore Zeldin

Associate Editor: Jeff Barry
Associate Editor: Neil Langdon Inglis
Assistant Editor: Ana de Biase
Assistant Editor: Sophie Lewis
Assistant Editor: Siska Rappé
Art Consultant: Angie Roytgolz

Click to enlarge picture Click to enlarge picture. Poems by A.B. Jackson  


Arthur’s Seat, Edinburgh

The night air carried nothing of the city;
the sky, a slate grey-blue beyond routine
bankruptcy, the government of loss.
Blackbird, rattling its thicket, had no
ear for trumpets. Spring intuited itself.

What sank from high dark to horizon, stone-in-
water, escaped all newspapers and the day’s
thin infatuations: a canopied ring of lights
hovered there: ghost-carousel, UFO:
the Blackford Hill observatory. Come dawn,

an ordinary world returned: dew on bracken,
a team of painted, fire-forged horses
dropping like stars from the sun’s womb
to carry off a crowd of shoeless children.


Phineas Gage     


Railroad work, through Cavendish, Vermont.                  
An accidental blast: the tamping rod
enters by cheek, behind eye, comes rocketing out                                   
the skull-top of foreman Phineas Gage,                          

landing behind him some thirty yards away,
a javelin greased with blood. He sits up.
Reporters note: ‘Alive at 2 o’clock,
possessing all his reason, free from pain.’

Frontal brain destroyed, the healing’s mixed.
His friends confess, Gage is no longer Gage.               
Once business-like, mild-mannered, now profane,                       
irreverent to fellow men and God,

His work revealed by thunder, and the rod,                                 
or living mercy — Gage remains unfixed.



A passion fuelled by foxes cannot last.
Our joiners cobbled up this mirrored bliss.
A skater’s weight will force a pond’s collapse.
Fox-love is a game of hit or miss.

I’ll throw them chicken wings, a slice of beef.
Porch lights will ignite when foxes run.
Our garden is a pool of disbelief.
Vermin have their holes in kingdom come.

The synaesthete sees colour in a word;
a tune is bitter almond, orange peel.
A fox’s nose is cleaner than a sword.
Our kiss was burning bibles on a wheel.

Hail, as foxes gnaw their daily bread,
the winter pavement serving as a dish.
We snuffled out our boundaries in bed.
Christ send me, quick, another night like this.


from Apocrypha


Abraham wielded a watering can.
With star-mangled fervour
he sprinkled the Arctic, the Sahara.

Five years later, a riot of wild
orchids and tropical liana
convulsed the Arndale shopping centre.

Moths fled their equator.
With twelve-inch tongues uncoiled
they drilled for glacial nectar.

Some species perished: inverted
atmospheres, increased cloud cover
snuffed the jewelled frog, the grail spider.

When moonlight wobbled
Abraham knocked a nail through it.



Moses horned, lantern-jawed,
down from his mountain.
The Law weighed a half ton,

his palms and finger-pads
rosy-raw. Chinese
whispers ran as follows over
cleft palate, mild speech impediment:
avoid shellfish and homosexuals;
dally not with incontinent vipers
on Hollywood Boulevard; cherish
cuckoo spit, the cuckoo wasp.
Secure the election.

Moses, in a marmalade wig,
reloaded his gun.