Stephen Robertson

Slanting Lines

Concordance

This concordance provides an index to every word in the poems, excluding a list of common "stopwords".  It may be useful in finding a half-remembered poem, and perhaps in looking at the usage of words in the poems as a whole.  It will be readable only on a large screen.

J

n // // greet each pole like a jumping
jack .  // // The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.  // // Raindrops
// // Other pocket?  // // No.  // //
Jacket , maybe?  // // No.  // // But which jacket yesterday?  Ah, that
ng up earthworks // // zipping up your
jacket // // tying up your shoelaces // // topping up the tank // /
ket, maybe?  // // No.  // // But which
jacket yesterday?  Ah, that one.  // // But no.  // // Table by door?  /
Donkeys don’t wear
jackets // // Shapeless, navy blue or fawn, // // three-quarter leng
.  // // In Friday Market square // //
Jacob van Artevelde makes an expansive gesture // // towards the sett
Sculpting the vortex // // // //
Jacob’s Rock Drill pierces through the brain // // and splits apart E
blink you will miss // // the instant
jagged challenge passing between them // // or down to earth.  // //
lear stream // // grey mountain // //
jagged mountain // // choppy sea // // swirling stream // // smooth
shoots, // // strong curves lined with
jagged thorns, // // seeking new ground to conquer.  // // Spiders’ w
on the day but one preceding.”  // // —
James Joyce, Ulysses.  // //
al polish, // // jars for all sorts of
jams and pickles.  Washers // // and nuts and bolts and screws and ho
ry.  // // A crescent moon.  // // It’s
Jan , not June.  // //
mmune.  // // Let snow lie, // // it’s
Jan , not June.  // // A blue lagoon, // // the deep blue sky.  // //
moon, // // a winter sky.  // // It’s
Jan , not June.  // // A red balloon, // // way up high, // // with c
une.  // // The senses fly.  // // It’s
Jan , not June.  // // Back home soon // // warm and dry.  // // A cre
across // // and find myself in wooded
Janet’s Foss.  // // Upstream again to clamber Gordale Scar // // and
January Nineteen Hundred and One // // The century turns.  // // Righ
/ to reach by boat.  That place we call
Japan : // // against the sky, a line of those same firs // // looks
iod or layer, // // like the bard from
Japan whose verses never would scan, adds an extra list.  // // As we*
ley crew // // of categories in boxes,
jars and tins: // // the larger bolts and nuts and washers, // // fl
throat lozenges or metal polish, // //
jars for all sorts of jams and pickles.  Washers // // and nuts and b
ers and fibre sealing rings.  // // The
jars hang from their lids, nailed to // // the shelf above.  The boxe
tor caused Eve to know // // more than
Jehovah thought she should— // // but keeping us in darkness so // /
cycle paths // // One to two thousand: 
Jesus College // // The Chimney; Cranmer Room; Café Bar // // courts
mile climb // // brings us to a hidden
jewel lake, // // soup-spoon-shaped, still half-covered // // in slo
d no gold, // // no gems nor coins nor
jewels ; just the old // // and weathered hills, created by some force
Cambridge when it was still managed by
Jim Ede (he would pick up a Brancusi stone head, or a small cut brass
an see all the junk inside. // // grey
John Major // // surely had a wager // // that he could without worr
phologic variations, // // awaiting Dr
Johnson’s ministrations, // // waiting to discover their relations, /
tion.  // // Narrow side road curves to
join // // a bend on a bigger road.  The pavements // // curl around
rse private finance will // // jump to
join in, but needs time to come through.  // // I’ll give it some taxp
/ but they had filled the gap to make a
join // // with the neighbouring block, leaving a row of nine.  // //
l the houses down the street.  // // We
joined the local protest, but to small // // effect.  At last we felt
born.  // // But Maurice Ravel has just
joined // // the Société des Apaches // // (or Bunch of Hooligans) /
rsing a // // difficult scree but then
joining an easier // // path with spectacular views over Bassenthwait
ced, // // the soft and sensuous flesh
joins love’s embrace.  // // Mother and child are two, and now are one
// // with the cold seeping into each
joint , // // it must be insane // // to expect that a train // // w
// // But that was then.  Now the rail
joints are welded, and the dominant sound // // is continuous and hig
west?  That was just // // Hitchcock’s
joke .  // //
ssing.  // // It’s getting beyond a bad
joke .  // // Destroying our comfort’s as rotten // // as stealing a l
There was a bitter, civil // // war in
Jordan .  // // There was a gun.  // // There was a bullet, stray.  //
Daydream Dale
Journey // // From Ilkley’s old stone bridge I trace a path // // ag
// But we don’t notice them at all: the
journey is seamless // // and, in truth, a little dull.  // // From B
while I can // // think of resuming my
journey unaided—I // // just have to check on my map for the best way
ng noise of the train.  // // Childhood
journeys by rail come back // // to my memory, patterns of clickety-c
ing lines of geese // // more travels,
journeys , voyages, expeditions // // more books, more coffee cups //
poetry too to posterity speaks; // //
Joyce has his Liffey whose recirculation keeps // // Finnegan going (
e day but one preceding.”  // // —James
Joyce , Ulysses.  // //
it made as it spun, a rhythmic staccato
juddering // // with a touch of syncopation.  // //
// // On a New York subway: 
Judith and me standing as there are no seats; she is 4 or 5 months pre
g can wait.  // // I go to work.  // //
Judith , artist, // // models in clay or plaster, // // casts in plas
n the right side of your face only.  As
Judith had broken in a new pair of boots, we buried the old pair somew
/ another crematorium.  // // This time
Judith has chosen the music, // // a Beethoven string quartet.  // //
ter, // // she says to her dad // // “
Judith is a painter, isn’t she?”  // // Yes.  // // “Then why hasn’t s
is brush after painting some woodwork. 
Judith sees something in the shapes, and using a charcoal stick, makes
ome of them to her.  Just for example: 
Judith Shea’s sculpture in the Hirschhorn in Washington, close to a ve
s everyone shuffle up in order to allow
Judith to sit down.  They obey her, all shapes and sizes of New Yorker
rkers, like lambs.  It is a memory that
Judith treasures for the rest of her life. // //
// // equatorially // // squeeze the
juice // // leave the pith and pips.  // // Papaya, melon: // // pol
ps slanting across the glass.  // // We
jump at a sudden sound-blast— // // another train on the next track. 
rand and flamboyant adventure—to // //
jump on the bandwagon he’ll be glad.”  // // The Boris is happy.  “We
e catch // // close enough to make you
jump , or far away, // // the thud as one more apple hits the muddy gr
from which I just emerged?  // // Did I
jump , or was I pulled or pushed?  // // Did I leap a chasm, ford a rag
y—of course private finance will // //
jump to join in, but needs time to come through.  // // I’ll give it s
Jump willing in // // Jump willing into every word-filled well; // /
Jump willing in // //
Jump willing into every word-filled well; // // a book should suck yo
e me to quite a different place.  // //
Jump willing into every word-filled well, // // fall, fall into the w
to her lover’s side makes haste:  // //
jump willing into every word-filled well.  // // That book will hold a
, destroy or reconstruct a case:  // //
jump willing into every word-filled well.  // // That book will tales
and then // // greet each pole like a
jumping jack.  // // The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.  // // R
Type right // // The quick brown fox
jumps over the lazy dog // //
ront garden and the street // // a tee-
junction , and a line of sight // // along a tree-lined road into the
on standoff // // An ordinary suburban
junction .  // // Narrow side road curves to join // // a bend on a bi
and beginning—for G) // // From random
junctures in primeval winds // // a billion random patterns form—unti
/ A crescent moon.  // // It’s Jan, not
June .  // //
// Let snow lie, // // it’s Jan, not
June .  // // A blue lagoon, // // the deep blue sky.  // // The cresc
The moon in
June // // A crescent moon, // // a winter sky.  // // It’s Jan, not
// a winter sky.  // // It’s Jan, not
June .  // // A red balloon, // // way up high, // // with crescent m
// The senses fly.  // // It’s Jan, not
June .  // // Back home soon // // warm and dry.  // // A crescent moo
o my tune, // // I’ll lead.”  But come
June // // it turns out she has feet of clay.  // // On the continent
so wide // // and you can see all the
junk inside. // // grey John Major // // surely had a wager // // t