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      <td width="363"><div align="center"><img src="Hidden-City.jpg" width="142" height="142" /></div>
      <p align="center"><a href="Drawings.html">Back</a></p></td>
      <td width="325"><p><strong><em>Hidd</em></strong><em><strong>en City 3</strong></em></p>
      <p>Poems written to celebrate hidden places in Glasgow. Performed in September 2006 near the Caledonian Railway Bridge. <em>The Ballad of Anton and Lynne</em> is inspired by some grafitti on the bridge. <em>Upon the Pillars</em> is based on text engraved by the poet and artist Ian Hamilton Finlay. </p>
      <p><em><strong>Hidden City 5 </strong></em>will take place September 2009. </p></td>
      <td width="344"><div align="center"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFKvjv9cZRc">You Tube clip of the performance in 2006 here.</a></div></td>
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      <td><p align="center"><strong>Upon the Pillars of  the Old Caledonian Railway Bridge over the River Clyde  Inscribed,<br />
  &nbsp;&nbsp;with a  Quote from Plato&rsquo;s <em>The Republic </em>and a  translation by Heidegger,<br />
  &nbsp;by Ian Hamilton Finlay and his Collaborators.</strong></p>
        <p align="center">or</p>
        <p align="center"><strong>Fine Things are Hard</strong></p>
        <p>&nbsp;</p>
        <p>Waving to the ghost of Ozymandias,<br />
          the Hand of History finger-tips North,<br />
          pausing by the Bridge, <br />
          where two massive Legs of Stone are Being, washed <br />
          by the watery expanse.&nbsp; </p>
        <p>Inscribed in the Stone, moss-strewn and barnacled, the Hand  senses:<br />
          TA &Gamma;A&Rho; &Delta;&Eta; &Mu;&Epsilon;&Gamma;&Alpha;&Lambda;&Alpha;&nbsp; &Pi;&Alpha;&Nu;&Tau;&Alpha; &Epsilon;&Pi;&Iota;&Sigma;&Phi;&Alpha;&Lambda;&Eta; &Kappa;&Alpha;&#912;&nbsp; &Tau;&#908; &Lambda;&Epsilon;&Gamma;&#908;&Mu;&Epsilon;&Nu;&#908;&Nu; &Tau;&Alpha; &Kappa;&Alpha;&Lambda;&Alpha; &Tau;&#911;&Iota; &Omicron;&Nu;&Tau;&Iota; &Chi;&Alpha;&Lambda;&Epsilon;&Pi;&Alpha;</p>
        <p>The Hand scratches its metaphorical Head. </p>
        <p>And then, with infinite care, the Hand extends an accusative  digit<br />
          at all who pass by, which seems to imply:<br />
  &lsquo;D&rsquo;ye ken whit tha&rsquo;s aboot?&rsquo;</p>
        <p>&nbsp;</p>
        <p>Chronology:</p>
        <p>c.360 BC: Plato inscribes <em>The Republic</em>, Athens. <br />
          1818: Percy Bysse Shelley inscribes <em>Ozymandias,</em> London<em>. </em><br />
          1878: William Arrol  constructs Caledonian   Railway Bridge  over River Clyde, Dalbeattie granite. Arrol also indirectly involved in  construction of Tate   Modern Art   Gallery and the <em>Titanic.</em> <br />
          1933: Heidegger uses his translation of Plato&rsquo;s <em>The Republic, </em>6.497d: &lsquo;All that is great stands in the storm&hellip;&rsquo; as the final line  of his inaugural address as Rector of Freiburg University, Germany. His address  is followed by three salutes to the leader of the National Socialist Party.<br />
          Alternative translations include: <br />
  &lsquo;..all great things are perilous,  and it is true, as the proverb says, that beautiful things are hard&rsquo; (Lindsay,  1906); <br />
  &lsquo;For all great things are precarious and, as the proverb truly says, fine  things are hard&rsquo; (Shorey, 1935);<br />
  &nbsp;&lsquo;For surely all great things carry  with them the risk of a fall, and, really, as the saying goes, fine things are  hard&rsquo; (Bloom, 1968) <br />
  &nbsp;&lsquo;For all great things are  dangerous, and, as the proverb has it, excellent things really are hard.&rsquo;  (Allen, 2006)<br />
          1966-7: Railway tracks removed from Caledonian Railway   Bridge. <br />
      c.1990: Ian Hamilton Finlay&rsquo;s designs for the pillars  inscribed. </p>        <p>&nbsp;</p>      </td>
      <td><p align="center">&nbsp;</p>      </td>
      <td><p><strong>The Ballad of Anton  and Lynne</strong></p>
        <p>Tony, alias Anton, is chewing gum.<br />
          His back to the river, he wears a gun<br />
          Strapped to his chest, near his vest.</p>
        <p>His tracksuit&rsquo;s nylon, grey and red.<br />
          His profile looks like molten lead,<br />
          Craggy and deep, a gaoler&rsquo;s keep.</p>
        <p>His hair&rsquo;s slicked back with sticky gel;<br />
          His trainers, Nike, have done him well:<br />
          He&rsquo;s had to run, and not for fun.</p>
        <p>He scans the sidewalk with spot-check eyes,<br />
          The bridge, the arches, all the passers-by,<br />
          While he&rsquo;s waiting, anticipating.</p>
        <p>He&rsquo;s wondering how much time he&rsquo;s got.<br />
          Tony reckons it&rsquo;s not a lot.<br />
          The Fuzz&rsquo;ll come. They&rsquo;ll find the gun.</p>
        <p>But Tony&rsquo;s got a date with love:<br />
          Full-bhoona heart-thump heaven-above.<br />
          Pure as poppy, no cheap copy.</p>
        <p>And behold, she comes, on a barge of gold,<br />
          His Celtic Cleopatra. Lynne, she&rsquo;s called: <br />
          His beauty. His dearest booty.</p>
        <p>Anton&rsquo;s vision of glory on earth.<br />
          As molten chocolate Lynne comes to berth,<br />
          Her Nile the Clyde, her  boat the &lsquo;Pride&rsquo;.</p>
        <p>Nimbly, slimly, she steps ashore<br />
          Midst Tony&rsquo;s amorous blurt of &lsquo;phwoar!&rsquo;<br />
          But, I fear, the end is near.</p>
        <p>Rome&rsquo;s  dispatched the Boys in Blue, <br />
          Their errant plaintiff to pursue.<br />
          The Broomielaw&rsquo;s chock full of Law.</p>
        <p>Anton knows that his hour is come.<br />
          There&rsquo;s nowhere left for him to run.<br />
          Blowing kisses to his Mrs,</p>
        <p>Tony climbs the railway bridge<br />
          And sits astride a high-up ridge,<br />
          Taking from his pocket, Lynne&rsquo;s locket</p>
        <p>And a handy can of aerosol<br />
          To spray his name, and the name of his Moll,<br />
          Simply, in white. For the light.</p>
        <p>But just as Tony&rsquo;s tag&rsquo;s completed<br />
          The Polis know that he&rsquo;s defeated.<br />
          He&rsquo;s surrounded; almost compounded.</p>
        <p>There&rsquo;s nothing for it but to let go the rail.<br />
          Lynne shouts &lsquo;No!&rsquo; to no avail.<br />
          Headfirst to the Clyde,  does Tony glide,</p>
        <p>And in the grey Glaswegian gloom,<br />
          Meets his Icarus-like doom.<br />
          He drowns. No splash. Lynne&rsquo;s heart goes crash.</p>
        <p>And fast, before The Polis reach her &ndash; <br />
          Before their very eyes &ndash; <br />
          Lynne transforms into a river creature:<br />
          Becomes her namesake,<br />
          Changes to her liquid nature.</p>
        <p>Her flaming hair becomes a stream,<br />
          It turns from red to gold to green.<br />
          Her ruddy face begins to look<br />
          As though it were a woodland brook,<br />
          And eyes, which ever seemed like jewels,<br />
          Are now resembling two limpid pools.</p>
        <p>As deep ice melting in a spring-time thaw,<br />
          Lynne&rsquo;s like water, more and more.<br />
          Her limbs dissolve, she liquefies.<br />
          The rule of common sense defies,<br />
          And slips towards her natural home:<br />
          Swiftly flowing into the blue, black foam.</p>
        <p>Gasping &lsquo;Goodness&rsquo;, the Law rush forth.<br />
          An awe-struck chorus, they line the path<br />
          Beside the Clyde</p>
        <p>And watch, as the final drops of Lynne - <br />
          A brook, a cataract, a spray &ndash; begin<br />
          To ebb and flow, quite slow,</p>
        <p>Like waving seaweed in the flow,<br />
      And merge with Anton who&rsquo;s down below.</p>        <p align="center">&nbsp;</p>      </td>
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