I heard this woman speak from Derek Jarman's desk, she spoke and half asleep I woke to feel her rhythmic words oblique to all I knew as poetry.
This place a poem I can’t write, she said, I’ll listen to the wind instead and turn my thoughts to that poor badger on the road.
I stopped the car I was alone, I snapped it three times with my phone and now it lies here on his desk, three shots of this dead thing, its dark blue pool of blood that spills half on the road half on the grass, from deep inside its side it’s dead, and really still, and still it has a such beauty, still.
This is not a joke but a serious conjunction of thoughts. I’ve been mesmerised since earlier this week by the sound and rhythms of Kate Tempest. I heard her poem More Than a Desert and was (as they say) blown away. It suddenly hit me what a unique poetic voice she has. And then a drawing of a dead badger appears and I was thinking and rhyming like Kate. The poem needs to be read exactly as she would read it - few poetic pauses with the voice falling away at the end of what might be a stanza or verse.