Black Stone
I arrived back in New York to learn that my favourite poet, Ivor Cutler, is dead. I will always remember his multi-episodic Glasgow Dreamer and Egg Meat – heart breakingly bleak, yet completely absurd poems that have etched themselves into my neural chassis. The Guardian has published a beautiful obituary. Metafilter has posted a useful link to some of his recorded material. I moped arount the Met today, taking in the Rauschenberg exhibition but was somehow more drawn to the somber beauty of these ancient Chinese stones. Cutler taught himself Chinese and was in the habit of frequenting London’s Chinatown. I think he might have liked these stones.
Limestone
