Shostakovitch had a special friend
whom he could telephone to come
and spend some time with him.
No words would pass between them;
they would just sit silently across the room:
Shostakovitch solid as in his photograph.
After half an hour, he would thank
the friend, who would then get up and leave.
What he needed was the company,
not conversation; just not to be alone;
to have the sense of someone being there.
Perhaps it was telepathy? A transference
back and forth? A therapy? Sounds
outside our human reach and range?
Roy Davids has been a dealer in manuscripts, an auctioneer, a marketing director, a teacher, and a collector of portraits, poetical manuscripts and porcelain. He is fascinated by the osmotic process whereby some poems, perhaps striking or access-ible on early acquaintance, can, like white noise, linger in the imagination as they meld with readers’ own experience, finding other resonances, maybe even working a deeper magic. This can be true of apparently descriptive pieces as ‘listeners’ imperceptibly transfer them into their own landscapes.
The illustration on the front cover is by Michael Kenna who is a prize-winning photographer and artist.