Look at the sky and the sun,
she said, you can almost watch
Peter Lanyon gliding by.
Look at the houses by the beach
and you can imagine Sven Berlin
carrying a canvas up the steps.
Look, she said, just look at the sea,
how blue it is. Look into the distance,
and see the tiny dot on the horizon.
What it is, I asked, and she said,
It’s what you want it to be, and
going where it should, in its own way.
Look, she said, the colours make you
think of Terry Frost and Bryan Wynter.
Look, there’s Patrick Heron’s eye.
© Jim Burns
Picture No 10740561 © David Chapman / ardea
Jim Burns was born in Preston in 1936, and now lives near Stockport. He left school at 16, worked in a cotton mill and elsewhere, and spent three years in the army. He edited Move (1964-1968) and Palantir (1976-1983). He has been a regular contributor to Ambit (1963-2013) and Tribune (1964-1994). Publications include Laying Something Down: Poems 1962-2007 (Shoestring Press, 2010), Streetsinger (Shoestring Press, 2013), Let’s Do It, and Late Poems (Black Light Engine Room Press, forthcoming), as well as eight collections of reviews and essays, the most recent being Paris, Painters, Poets (Penniless Press, 2017).
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