Preview : Drag Queens @ the SPL

Lovely preview here of an upcoming event I’m working on for the Scottish Poetry Library with my fierce friend Jean-François Krebs.

More information and bookings here:

Expect sad music, performance, froideur, and some personal (and impersonal) poems.

Mumble Words

Thursday, January 28

Scottish Poetry Library



image002.jpgPoet Iain Morrison has written a sequence of poems about drag queens that he will perform at the SPL alongside Wanda Isadora de Fourrure (also known as the poet and artist Jean-François Krebs). The poems, which are insightful, funny and erotic, dramatize the pleasures and pitfalls of wearing drag.

The phrase ‘the library is open’ is used in the drag queen community to open hostilities, in a fun and witty way, when drag queens ‘read’ each other: ‘Girls, the library is open. Now, read her for FILTH!’ It was chosen as the title of the event as it represents an opportunity for a drag queen to express herself with her own voice as opposed to lip-syncing to a song.


As mainstream society grows more aware of issues regarding those whose gender can’t be neatly labelled, the SPL’s event is an imaginative, sensitive and…

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D.H. Lawrence – The Ship of Death

This beautiful poem, The Ship of Death by D.H. Lawrence:

It was nagging at my head tonight. I half remembered the line about the cooking pans, which had struck me as delightful before, that line and the voice’s naive optimism in setting out on this journey with a change of clothes, setting forth with all the learned behaviours we have learned for every other journey we’ve made before, and hoping it will bear us through. And I was loving the echoes of some of the death rituals we hear about from the ancient Egyptian tombs, say.

Also I was reminded of the section in Alice Notley’s  The Descent of Alette where the protagonist sinks into the dark lake at the bottom of everything, with eyes glowing and swimming around her absence. Such strong imagery in both and this poem’s a good read for our (finally) cold, dark midwinter. It speaks with such vision I find myself almost unquestioningly believing in reincarnation. Enjoy its strangely comforting incantations.