Leaving the gallery, you and I fell
into typical mini-break chat —
how we’d throw it all in tomorrow,
and move here, to Penzance,
live on our wits, write and paint
looking out on Gwavas Lake.
I mentioned K., a poet I’d met
a few times at readings in London,
who’d just upped and left one day
for Penzance (or was it Falmouth?)
some years back and might well
be living here still.
who should appear on Victoria Place,
typically fabulous, in starched denim
with milk-white bracebuttons,
rockabilly bouffant pinned at one side
with a red rose hair-clip, but K. herself.
As though I’d conjured her.
K. for real, floating zephyr-like
on Penzance air like Chagall’s Bella
in The Bouquet by the Window.
K. in the flesh, heading to Newlyn
to run a workshop based
on a show called Transitions.
So we followed her,
and what should I see on a trellis table
but Eno’s Oblique Strategies,
that occult series of prompts for artists,
and we’re allowed to touch anything
so I cut the deck, and my card reads:
Are there sections?
Consider the transitions.
I would that I were
writing this from Penzance.
Since receiving an Eric Gregory Award in 2002, David Briggs has published three collections with Salt Publishing. The Method Men  was shortlisted for the London Festival Poetry Prize, and Rain Rider  was a winter selection of the Poetry Book Society. His third book — Cracked Skull Cinema , a Poetry Wales Pick of the Year — has taken him on a reading tour ranging from a Festival of Death and Dying in Somerset to the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh to the Suffolk coast for Poetry in Aldeburgh. His work has appeared in journals and anthologies from The Poetry Review to Identity Parade.