chain coral Chorus
The title of this blog is taken from Canadian Poet, Robert Bringhurst’s The Tree of Meaning (Counterpoint: 2008), a glorious collection of lectures that fuse myth, folklore, language and politics with ecological perspective. In this quotation, he considers the magic and beauty that can be found or achieved in formal restriction and the intrinsic constraints of the natural realm.
I’ve always found that formalist verse offers this. There is an untranslatable power in the act of placing poetic restriction on one’s work - forcing the mind to think in, not just sound, image, mood and theme, but in rhythm, rhyme and metre, brings about new ways of arranging thoughts and perceiving things. One finds sonic and thematic links, clashes and connections between words and phrases, moods and themes, that would have been left unnoticed without the attention to form. It is, as Bringhurst states, the necessary restriction that allows for things to take off. To transcend, as birds do, the different and divergent terrains of earth, air and water. This is a noble goal for the poet - to produce work which can act efficiently and effectively in different terrains - ecological, social, philosophical and theological. A Blakean Fourfold Vision perhaps?! My work as poet in residence for the Black Country Geological Society is bound up in exploring the natural and earthy; in noticing its fearful symmetries. Geological observations of the world are also focused on pattern or structure, and on controlled investigation, extrapolation and portrayal. As such, not experimenting with form would be neglectful to the traditions of geopoetics, to the structures of the region’s stratigraphy, as well as the patterns in ecology and place-identity evident in the Black Country Geopark. As I go about my drifts through the geosites there is a sense of attempting to dig into the grounds - literally and symbolically - and I want this to be a formal feature of my poems too. I’m investigating the links between landscape, community and individuals, and in doing so, am navigating down to a base layer. A rock solid platform that allows for poetic observations akin to Bringhurst’s bird symbol. Here, I am trapped below the surface, on the immovable bedrock of our disparate topographies. Down here, I see things swarm, flood out in rhizomes. Down here, I see this swarming in rhythmite regularity. A form that does justice to this is the American Imagist Cinquian; a short five line poem tied together in strict syllabic measurements. Each line gets longer as the poem descends earthwards, allowing for slow, methodical meditation and magnification. It then hits its poetic bedrock with a snappy return to the thematic and formal aspect the poet began line one with - resulting in a sense of getting to the bottom of the thing, and yet returning too. Here’s an example of one of my recent cinquain geopoems: Mudrock, kinetic rains segment the shale and silt; an overlooked fissility - Time traps. This is a geopoetic trajectory - one of uncovering and reconnecting, of finding what might be within the known, of grounding oneself in the previously unnoticed and gaining a deeper understanding of one’s locale, land, world. We’re in the abyss, deliberately constrained, and it feels like home. Geology puts you in touch with the earth and the spacetime which is as old as she is. This provides embedded wayfinding wisdom of our locale, and puts us in touch with a primeval, animal consciousness and self awareness. Like the ancestral genius loci present in the rocks and soils, the ancestral beasts woken within us in our new wayfinding says; I am in all.
It's been a busy few weeks for the Chain Coral Chorus. I've been going about my deep time drifts in the Black Country Geopark, working up poems, ideas and adding to this building poetics. I see this as a psychogeographical exercise - going out and aimlessly drifting, searching out the overlooked edgelands or interzones. I've mentioned in previous posts about my view of the Black Country's liminality, especially when considering the off-kilter meetings of green and grey, industrial and natural, and this is in-keeping with some the traditions of this experimental method for place-writers. I suppose the difference in this project is that I'm moving away from the urban centricity of psychogeography, and rather than being totally aimless - it is a drift with a Geopoetic purpose and lens. It needs to be loose in this sense, and likewise needs to have a grounding or lens to the wo/andering. Through this, I harness the idiosyncratic perspective of psychogeography, but focus it with geological observations. I'd be keen to hear from others who meander with focus, or who're interested in these sorts of Geosites. I've also been running a series of workshops based on my work. So far, these have been well attended and I've received some really wonderful feedback. On the 3rd November I ran a talk and workshop for the University of Wolverhampton in Stafford, called Geopoetic Landscapes. You can view it here: And on the 14th November I ran a Geopoetic virtual tour of Wren's Nest Nature Reserve - one of the most significant Geosites in the wider Geopark, as well as nationally. This was part of the Being Human Festival - the only national festival of the Humanities. It runs free events across the UK every November, with a focus on making Humanities Research more accessible and tactile. We had a lot of fun working through various writing prompts and delving into the fossil and mineral rich muck of Dudley. Again, I'm really touched by how enthusiastic and warm participants to this event have been. It seems, no matter where they come from and how practiced they might be in these ideas, Black Country Geopoetics strikes a deep chord with people.
With this in mind, I'd like to share some of the writing from three poets who came along. I had them writing Cinquains - an American Imagist form of poetry - designed to get them digging into the earth, and into an idea. I'm going to dedicate my next blog post to how formalist verse works with these geopoetics in the coming weeks. Until then, let me leave you with these poems. Lovely, amusing and playful, but always retaining the sense of deep-time topological presence, I give you Daisy Black, Isobel Malcolm and Alison Raybould - who sent me two Cinquains and an extra bit (10 housepoints, Alison). Alison Raybould sparkle kingfisher hogweed clear-path stepping-stones acorns freedom in bigsky birdsong magic a potholed network of loops and squirtholes it’s dusty surface belies the clag beneath imprints track and trace epochs of unheard witness damplight menacing elves drag acorned sphagnum cloaks re(-)covering juts – lost voiced tales fossilled Daisy Black dogshit softness eroding heathered youth adventure worlds still to open nutrients Isobel Malcolm Wind, Pebbles, shells, Timber, rope, boulders Freedom envelopes my being, Spirituality. The Chain Coral Chorus is really picking up pace, and I'm thrilled to have been involved with some really exciting things over the last month. My travels across the geosites have been really productive and I'm enjoying using these cutting-edge poetics. At the beginning of October, I had the great pleasure of sharing some of my work and ideas at Geopoetry2020; an amazing all day online conference of geopoetry and geopoetics organised by the Geological Society, the Scottish Poetry Library, the Scottish Centre for Geopoetics and the Edinburgh Geological Society. It was lovely to represent the University of Wolverhampton and the BCGS alongside so many impressive thinkers and writers, including Norman Bissel, Yvonne Reddick, Alyson Hallet and John Hegley. You can watch the event here: It's also been an honour to give a public talk and workshop on Black Country Geopoetics at the University of Wolverhampton's ArtsFest Online, organised by the brilliant, Claire Buckerfield. I asked participants to write cinquains based on my ideas of digging into the earth to find the bedrock of place-identity. One person said that the event had a similar effect on her as two weeks by the seaside. I got a lot of really great and useful feedback from this event and have been touched by how people have seen the worth in these deep time poetics. If you missed it, you can join the fun here: There's more to come too.
On 3rd November I'll be giving a talk and running a workshop for UoW Stafford called Geopoetic Landscapes. It's a free online event and you can book a place here: www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/geopoetic-landscapes-tickets-124091491993 A week or so later and it's the annual Being Human Festival, the UK's only festival of the Humanities. Supported by the Arts and Humanities Research Council, the School of Advanced Study and the British Academy This year I'll be involved in a virtual poetry tour of Wren's Nest Nature Reserve, talking about the important geological features and industrial heritage, and running more writing exercises. Again, this free and you can sign up here: beinghumanfestival.org/event/rich-soils-a-geopoetry-workshop/ If you're curious about what's under our feet, how the makeup of the lands impact our sense of place, and how we can use Earth Sciences for creative means then please come along. I'll leave you with a geopoem as a little taster. Overhanging Olistoliths slump-slide as resisting stresses buckle and atavistic avalanches - submarine, like hangover guilt: that dew-drenched dawn when we grazed feet along New Year frosts and we didn’t speak a word and we didn't hold hands and we didn't see anyone and badgers were hibernating just like the trees - seem unstill. Up Dolerite dyke, the Heathen Coal underhung in extract where brittle bramble waits dusk-strike. She says, there's something in the extraction, something seeding, imbedding, gulfing us. Snipers In walks, consider not that which catches vision, but those hiding beings spreading vision back at you; pulling in fossil pulses. I'm about two months into my residency with the BCGS now, and having a really wonderful time exploring what the different geosites have to offer. They're such rich, lush and mysterious places; drifting through them with a geopoetic lens has profoundly impacted my own sense of place and heightened my passion for this region's history and culture. I've said this before, but it's worth repeating - there is something really special in the experience of getting lost and being awestruck in sites that are just outside or on the edges of our everyday realms. Take West Park in Wolverhampton - here you'll find huge glacial erratics pitched in the park grounds like ancient totems. They travelled hundreds of miles during the glacial epoch, and are older still. A poignant reminder of the toddlerdom of humanity on Earth. You can touch this piece of ancient movements where kids play football, where dog walkers and joggers circulate, just minutes from Wolverhampton's bustle. The same can be said of Hayes Cutting; a fascinating dipping sequence tucked behind a rusted rail on the Industrial Estates of The Lye. Commuters, deliveries, school runs zip passed as it sits in almost invisibility. There is something atavistic in these sites, or something that summons and imbues atavism. I don't mean this in any negative way; I see it as a touchstone for reconnecting with our locales, lands and the Earth in a deep time context and with the tactile knowledge that runs down to the oldest parts of our biology. This is why I've taken the title of this blog from John Playfair's observation of James Hutton's work. This, I think, is what White was talking about when he said "The geopoeticist is immediately placed in the enormous" or when Francis Ponge stated "they sink into the night of logos - until finally they find themselves at the ROOT level, where things and formulations merge" or when George Amar thinks about the embodied knowledge of reading the land "reading is like swimming or dancing [...] eskimos can read snow and nomads desert sand". These are things that we can walk through, touch, see and smell, and in that connect us to our region and our land in ways that are both intellectual and visceral. It is, like ancient wayfinding skills, embodied and physical wisdom. It seems totem was exactly the right word for West Park's erratics, and I'd use it for the geological cuttings and other features across the region too: that which, with a strange sense of animism, calls and connects people and place. Tourist Tracks Wren's Nest ripple beds gawp back at tourist gawping in brown leaf models, unaware of permanent dead insignificancies. Keep a keen eye on this blog over the coming weeks as I explore these ideas in more depth and tell you about some of the exciting plans I have in place for this residency. Here's a little teaser: I've managed to rope in some fellow poets to help bring new perspectives to this project, and am very excited to say that Lee Armstrong, Liz Berry, Roy McFarlane and Emma Purshouse will all be involved in writing guest blogs and site-specific poems, and joining me to discuss and read their work in future events. Stay tuned! On October 1st I'll be sharing these ideas and my poems at Geopoetry20. You can check it out here - https://www.geolsoc.org.uk/geopoetry20 On October 8th I'll be talking about my Geopoetic ramblings for the University of Wolverhampton's ArtsFest Online. Check back here for links and information over the coming weeks. In November it's the annual Being Human Festival, and I'm planning a Geopoetry Walk and Writing Workshop on the Wrenna. Details will come soon when the full line up is announced. Until then, in the rocks we trust! https://www.newscientist.com/article/mg22429990-900-how-to-think-about-deep-time/
https://www.institut-geopoetique.org/fr/textes-fondateurs/8-le-grand-champ-de-la-geopoetique https://www.institut-geopoetique.org/fr/cahiers-de-geopoetique/31-editorial-du-cahier-n-1 https://www.institut-geopoetique.org/fr/cahiers-de-geopoetique/118-du-surrealisme-a-la-geopoetique Simon Armtigage, my first poetry crush, has spoken about literature’s relationship with geography and earth sciences, suggesting that the story and the poem are sort of cousins to geography since ‘in British Literature a sense place and a sense of geography permeates pretty much everything’ and that geography and landscape ‘characterise’ it.
My secondary school geography teacher, Mr Reynaulds, explained to our class why he loved the subject and why he thought we would too. He did this as a sort of geeky confession that kickstarted our GCSE learning. He explained that there was something beautiful and amazing to be seen in the everyday; that the study was a way of changing one’s perceptions. Once you learn, even a little, about the makeup of the terrains in which we live it is impossible to just see a hill, a grass verge, a housing estate; they become carefully orchestrated, even poetic things. These things, often passed at speed and without deliberation when moving through the mundane, become Corries, Glaciofluvial Sands, Meltwater Ridges, sites centred around ancient religious or cultural symbols, social patterns that mirror their geological histories. What Mr Reynaulds was explaining in his confession was Rimbaudian - The poet becomes a seer by the prodigious and rational, disordering of the senses - a reawakening, refinding, refining, renaming of the familiar. These become - are brought into being by the seer as- things of movement and narrative. Mr Reynauld’s nerdy-visonaryism struck deep and stayed with me (I’m probably not the only ex-pupil of his that has felt this which is testament to his pedagogical excellence); I went on to study Geography at A-Level, Environmental Psychology during my PhD, and have remained fascinated and awestruck by what can be achieved through acute observation of the everyday, the fusion of scientific, social and poetic mindscapes. Isn’t that fusion what we’re built from? Isn’t that awe what we seek meaning in? Isn’t its life (since these things are ecosystems) lifegiving itself? I understand this as a form of, or at least a fundamental element to, geopoetics - a search of the known, bringing about the unknown and using that to exfoliate (to use a geological term) one’s modernity-blinkered perceptions of the world. A return to the earth - returning in Rimabud’s Drunken Boat. This is why much of my work is preoccupied with place, landscape and setting - my poems’ voices and fictional characters are grown from the soils of the storyworlds. Place, and all the symbolically charged particles that make places, comes first and act as the compost for narrative, drama and poetry. For this Black Country Geopoetics, for my role as Poet in Residence for the BCGS and the Chain Coral Chorus project it is necessary to get deeper, to go deeper, to try to find the bedrock of place. Into geology. Graham Worton, Chairman of the BCGS and Keeper of Geology for Dudley appreciates this geopoetic position too. His geological expertise, alongside his passion for his locale has imbibed him with profound understanding of the way the history of the land makes decisions for us, allows us to make social and cultural movements, and how it connects us to different parts of the globe. In his thoughts about the rainfall over the region, he notices how the lay of the land connects this overlooked place to Hull, Nottingham, Bristol. He talks about the role that place-specific rock formations play in inviting populations to settle, work, build community and entrepreneurial spirit. In his narration for the Black Country Geopark Story he recognises the drama and narrative embedded in the landscape, and importantly considers what the Black Country might be like next - “that’s for future generations to define, and for the planet to give us, a new era to inhabit”. As such, his delving into the heritage of rocks and layers of land provides a deep time and longwave context to our understanding of place - what Kenneth White might call a topographic reverie. I'm making the geo of geopoetics Geological in my work. In a sense to get to the foundation stone of place - from where it all grew. Then, like Worton, fusing this with my Black Country passion and understanding of environmental psychological states. In this, digging deep, as deep as a poet can, physically and symbolically, and harnessing it's yield to the patterns of contemporary Black Country Place-identity - as wild and as simple as they might be. This reconfiguring of the everyday and fusion of different ways of seeing as routes towards geopoetic awe is shared by another important figure in the field - Normal Bissell - I'll let him have the last word; “It's about a poetic approach to the world, by way of sharpening our senses, being more acutely sensitive to our surroundings, developing a well-grounded, creative response to everything around us. Writing poems? Yes, but also walking hills, exchanging ideas, cutting peat, making maps - washing dishes?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrCCF3IMN2k&list=PL54EFE6FD674126C1&index=3&t=0s https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PaxRX8-c2fU https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGGReRnvGn0 http://www.alastairmcintosh.com/general/resources/2008-Kenneth-White-Geopoetics.pdf The Geosites in the Black Country offer exemplars for what I discussed in part 2; these are lands where one might lose their footing, both literally and imaginatively. They are beautiful, rich havens of the natural, but know where and how to look and their liminal qualities come to the fore too.
Here is where Prehistoric relics rest; blumenbachii, ammonite, sea lily locked in fossil time-traps. Time and space changes can be mapped in the varves, lines and layers of coloured rocks that pierce through the grounds and form valleys and cliffs. Stare for long enough at Wren's Nest ripple beds and one is rushed with awe in realising, physically touching and sensing, that this land was once an ocean. These relics humble us. The Industrial past can muster similar sensations. Ruins of engine houses, railway lines and mine shafts are everywhere in the Geopark. Eerie in their new setting; they are absent from the sensory and communal things associated with industry. Weird in their newly re-wilded home; they are off-kilter, out of place, out of time. Again, investigating the heritage in these sites gives one the sense of connectedness to our forebears and ancestors. It provides a deeper understanding and connection to the modernity and mundaniety that surrounds places like Barrow Hill or Buckpool. What we have in these spaces is a primordial limen between prehistory, industry and our everyday realms. This limen is now embedded with Wild roots. They are home to rare species of newt, dragonfly and wild flower. Places for dog walks and family picnics, bird watching and conservation. The untamed natural has returned to the rich geo-topography and taken back that which once plundered it. And all this layering of different ghosts and growths are set against domestic life. Saltwells Nature Reserve is orbited by Netherton's housing estates and Merry Hill shopping centre. So these places that hold so much symbolic and scientific treasure, that connect us to the earth and our history, do so on the doorsteps of normal everyday realms. What we get here then is a series of rhizomes of Place-identity markers. Fossil, bluebell, bell pits and terraced house all share space. Caught in a beautiful in-between. Place-identity is a term used for the ways we attach ourselves to our locales. Places are packed full of different things - smells, sounds, memories, activities, movements, people, artefacts - all site-specific - which the subject takes into their sense of self. Place is fundamental to selfhood. The bottom line of that is the land, the makeup of the rocks and soils that allow all these things to bloom. In recognising this we are awestruck at our mutual connectedness as well as our grand insignificance. This is a post-industrial sublime, in the Gothic / Romantic sense. Just being here, gaining what White called the 'topological presence' is inspiring. But dig into the earth, search out your own Dudley Bug, and you're in a state of reverence, wonderment, joy and terror. Find out more about the Black Country Geopark - https://blackcountrygeopark.dudley.gov.uk/ Find out more about the Black Country Geological Society - https://bcgs.info/pub/ Find out more about Geopoetics - http://www.geopoetics.org.uk/ In my previous projects, like Bella and my poetry pamphlets, I've spent a considerable amount of time thinking about the Black Country's liminal qualities - the marginal, unmappable and off-kilter landscapes and cultures that become symbolically charged spaces in my work. Part of this is how communities and cultures exist and express in its post-industrial context.
As mentioned in my first blog post, the connections between industry and community, and between industrial community and Geology are important and fascinating intellectual pathways - often rhizomatous in nature. Rhizomatous, like the foundations of geopoetry. As such, it's not just the Geological significance of the region that enables these poetics, it's the gorgeous slippery nature of Black Countryness which mirrors the gorgeous slippery slopes of geopoetry. The Black Country is not quite north and not quite south. It's a strange mix of green space and grey space. Much of its culture is based on its industrial past, but this heritage has been ruined, renovated and built over. It sits in the shadow of its more successful brother Birmingham - but we’re definitely not brummies; we have our own flag, set of dialects and recognisable cultural artefacts, arenas and personas and yet no one can really settle on where the region begins and ends. This, coupled with its post-industrial position means that the landscape and genius loci is one of marginality and liminality. The things we do know for sure, or at least imagine for sure, is that Black Country identity and spaces are bound up in the forges, steelworks, glassworks, nail makers and chain makers - what was called The Cradle of the Industrial Revolution. What is also clear is that this was enabled by the coal seams and rich mineral resources in the region. These grounds, like the chain coral, built webs of housing estates, worker’s institutes, pubs and religious places - solid communal chain links. Solid and lost - another in-between - like the geology beneath the surface. I believe these overlooked, liminal grounds are ripe for entering and re-entering to bring about that topographic reverie that Kenneth White discussed, and to look into building McKay's poetic crossing point. This is a statement of intent as Poet in Residence for the Black Country Geological Society. Geopoetics are a variety of experimental writing practices that draw on geological method and language, and consider human life, culture and society in a deep time context. Canadian Poet, Don McKay referred to it as 'the place where materialism and mysticism, those ancient enemies, finally come together, have a conversation in which each hearkens to the other, then go out for a drink'. In this way, the poet's notebook and the geologist's field journal fuse. This is about deeply connecting to the land and its primal histories, and considering ourselves in the context of its deep time awe. It's also about finding new ways of meditating on and communicating about place; who we are, where we're arriving at and from, what building materials give us life and meaning. Eco poet, Derek Sheffield notes the connections between ecology and poetry, suggesting that the notebook becomes a field journal. He says we have "Adam's task - thinking of the right name for a thing". In naming them, we give them spirit - epistemological, narrative and poetic spirit. Like Wilde said, “Nothing existed until art invented it”. For Sheffield, following the trail in ecology is the same as following the strange impulse and tides of a poem in progress; an intellectual and physical wayfinding. Drafting equates to evolution and development of the scientific method. Here, the poetics of the creative are informed by the language, processes and observations of the Sciences. Through this the poet comes to recognise, in their poetics, a community of sensory data, vernaculars and interrelationships - the same as ecology: a community of species and connecting interactions. And in this, a recognition of connectedness and otherness. We are part of the system, and yet separate - observers. The Other-Connected is as integral to science as it is to poetry. It is the other and the same together. This is what is possible with geopoetics; the observation of millennia long bonds and gulfs. One of the most significant figures in geopoetics is Kenneth White who wrote, "I had always been of the persuasion that the richest poetics came from contact with the earth, from a plunge into biospheric space, from an attempt to read the lines of the world". Going on to argue that "This can be done in two ways: either by archaeological work on a language, or by an 'exotic' recourse to other languages with different metaphysics, different initial fictions". In simple terms then, what we're looking for here is a language mine, a collecting of words and terms that offer these different illuminating potentialities. But there's more at play too. As White posits, it's "a liberation from our conditioned minds. Once outside you let things be, you let go (letting be isn't a psychological context, it's an ontological one), and you retrieve a topological presence". This presence is achieved through acute Geological or Deep Time observations. This takes us back to Mckay: "Geopoetry makes it legitimate for the natural historian or scientist to speculate and gawk, and equally legitimate for the poet to benefit from close observation, and from some of the amazing facts that science turns up. It provides a crossing point, a bridge over the infamous gulf separating scientific from poetic frames of mind, a gulf which has not served us well, nor the planet we inhabit with so little reverence or grace". This is the foundation of the Chain Coral Chorus. Since the Black Country is so richly steeped in geological wonder, it makes sense to further geopoetry in the unearthing available on my doorstep. Derek Sheffield's Conference Paper - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3zs05YhZ0k Don McKay's Essay ‘Ediacaran and the Anthropocene: poetry as a read of deep time’, Kenneth White's Essay -http://www.alastairmcintosh.com/general/resources/2008-Kenneth-White-Geopoetics.pdf What is the Chain Coral Chorus?
The Chain Coral Chorus is the working title for an exciting poetry project I’m about to undertake as Poet in Residence at the Black Country Geological Society (BCGS). This is the first in what will be a series of blog posts that explore my poetics, meandering thoughts and observations over the next twelve months, as I drift through my residency; conducting my research in Black Country Geopoetics for the University of Wolverhampton’s Early Career Research Award Scheme (ERAS). I was recently successful in obtaining a place on the University of Wolverhampton's ERAS, for a creative writing project that explores the geological heritage of the Black Country. This is an annual award, across various disciplines that encourages new researchers and creatives to hit the ground running in their artistic and academic careers. This residency has been enabled by this fantastic support. In this 12 month residency, I'll be exploring the many geosites of the region - places set out by the Black Country Geopark initiatives as areas of important geological significance - writing a series of poems inspired by and set in these wonderful places. These poems will be creative responses to the environment and will explore how the geological make-up of the land impacts, connects and clashes with the overlooked cultures of the Black Country. This work will be enhanced by the important geological research and work of the BCGS; together we'll be furthering the messages of geo-conservation; introducing newcomers to geology, poetry and the region's rich history. The Black Country is famous for its role in the Industrial Revolution; its industrial heritage forged unique and important communities and cultures; this, in many ways was connected to the grounds that gave life to these cultures - the fossil rich grounds dating back to the Silurian era. This is where the name comes in. Chain Coral is a now extinct form of colonising coral. Single cells branch off, forming helix, webs or chain patterns, and this species colonised an area that was to become known as the Black Country. These fossil-chained grounds gave rise to the chainmakers, steelers and miners - the chain continues to be an important symbol of the region’s heritage and strong communal / cultural links. Chains run deep in the region’s cultural psyche - they run deep in the deep time soils. My creative work will re-figure our relationship with the local environment; both in its surfaces and depths, the building materials and the forces that create them. This project will consider these issues in an overlooked region, famed for its 'dark satanic mills', considering this in conjunction with conservation, ecology, sustainability, and new ways of experiencing place in the anthropocene. I'll be working with The Black Country Geological Society to engage the public in these new ways of considering poetry and place. As such, alongside the poems I'll be running a series of walks, talks, readings and workshops throughout the year. You can also keep up with my explorations, thoughts and writing by following the regular updates in the BCGS bi-monthly newsletter, which again will consider all these concerns about poetry of place and to celebrate Black Country Geology. I hope you enjoy this blog as the year goes by. I’ll accompany these with poems, videos and photos; each time focusing on a particular site, aspect of geology and / or element of geopoetics. Please get in touch too. If you have anything you want to ask, chat about or contribute to the discussions - I’d love to hear from you. Find out more about the BCGS- https://bcgs.info/pub/ Check out the Black Country Geopark Project - https://blackcountrygeopark.dudley.gov.uk/bcg/ Learn more about the UoW's ERAS Scheme - https://www.wlv.ac.uk/research/the-doctoral-college/early-researcher-award-scheme-eras/ |
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