‘Drafts’ again

Decided I was totally wrong in my approach of “Pitch’, and that these poems are completely epic and comparable to e.g. Fisher’s ‘Place’ (which I did not finish but is probably less accessible). I suppose it can be worked through via ‘everyday’ work and leisure, capitalist reproduction etc.. Not that I like reading it that much: its intensities are not immediate / striking enough for my taste. But yeah. Draft 81 ends

So many pebbles had been put on headstones

That it looked like the graves were piled with rubble.

It reads like a promise, that she, they, are writing for us, both the Modernists and the international working class, which I actually believe is true, even if it is too weighted to the former (RE my comment about immediacy), not, I suppose you could say, quite new enough (they were written around the turn of the decade before last).