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Gauntlet Press of Richard Outram and Barbara Howard
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Title By Year1997 (?). LONG SHOTS
First LineLangland, a scavenge-person for going on now
CreatorsOutram, Richard Daley, 1930-2005
Howard, Barbara, 1926-2002
Publisher[Gauntlet Press]
Place of Publication[Toronto]
Date[1997?]
DescriptionOne sheet of gold paper, 22 x 28 cm. Title of poem is printed in upper case Lithos, in turquoise. The poem's four stanzas are printed alternately in violet and in red; each has a different orientation. (Each stanza reads down from one of the page's four margins; it is thus necessary to rotate the page repeatedly in order to read the entire poem.) The stanzas enclose an area in the shape of a vertical rectangular, in the centre of which is a circular ornament (from the font 'African Ornaments One') blocked in turquoise, containing a series of crescents and a solar design (cf. the Gauntlet Press broadside 'Ms Cassie & After-Image'). At base of the page is: 'RICHARD OUTRAM', in Lithos, turquoise.
Size of Original1 sheet ; 22 x 28 cm.
Local Call NumberPS 8579 U92 L66 1997 RARE
TypeText
Resource TypeBroadside
FormatImage/jpeg
IdentifierGP-0076
CollectionGauntlet Press of Richard Outram and Barbara Howard
RepositoryMemorial University of Newfoundland. Libraries
LanguageEng
SourcePrint original in the Rare Books Collection, Memorial University of Newfoundland Libraries.
TranscriptLangland, a scavenge-person for going on now nearly seventeen years, has yet to recover a single chucked-out ruby-encrusted tiara. But given his radical convictions keeps rooting through battered mantras and the trashed grails. After a long mad night at the ivory eye-piece, the Royal Astronomer called it another day. Before retiring, he fudged his notes, trusting that no one would notice within his lifetime: God, he reminded himself, does not advertise. At the heart of the rotting heart of the fallen man he digested the fact: that in good time, prized for his swallow-tailed scalloped turquoise and brass-green wings with golden symmetrical mock eyes, he would thrash in a killing-bottle. He told the Truth to the courtesan on his left, murmuring 'pass it on…', hoping against hope that by the time it had been bobbled around the brilliant gregarious circle it might return, discreetly, with the port, believable at last.
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