Their keening need will fold its sound, bred in the humid shells they’ll make ‒ to shift, and free (peculiar as themselves) new birds. Jim Stewart, from “Oystercatchers” Before he died, Jim and I discussed the idea of having some kind of Memorial for him, based loosely around the poetics of the American Poet Joe Read More
Dear Jim I am in Malawi. It is 7.30 a.m. and I have just woken up. I suspect you died last night. Unable to get through to Eddie – the African bush is not known for rapid internet services – I can’t know for sure. And I have to leave my computer now to Read More
‘Great poets do not die; they are continuing presences’ (Virginia Woolf) Dr Jim Stewart is a continuing and steadfast poetic presence with me, both as friend and esteemed colleague in Woolf studies. He is very much present in the Cambridge University Press Edition of Woolf’s works, as superb textual collator, highly skilled proof reader, and Read More
Jim was passionate about the creativity of language, what it can do to expand our imaginations and empathies and deepen our most human interactions. He believed that access to cultural wealth and privilege, irrespective of background and income, was a democratic birth right. It was precisely because Jim had transformed himself so much through Higher Read More
While many remember Jim from Dundee, my most precious memories are of our times together in St Andrews, where I lived and he often visited. We talked, shared stories of children, loves, beliefs and literature while drinking coffee and, more often than not, wine. This pen and ink drawing is of the ruined cathedral in Read More
(For Jim, An excerpt) When teatime-hame folk thrang the street And head for pleasures, dark and sweet As learning days are wearing late And full-time students congregate While they sit boozing at the Union Downing wine like last-communion They think na of the puir wee sowels Wha nichtly haunt the Uni’s bowels Heading for their Read More
For Jim As I Slowly Circle You Twice Then out With A Smile, Dummy Out I Say HELLO BOY Tears From You Fall As You Cry Out To Mum “Rosalind’s Forgotten Me” Time Helped Me Remember You And Now Look At Us Out In The Garden Digging With Spoons We Smile For The Camera MY JIMMY And Read More
for Jim V-neck sweater, cord trousers and laced shoes is in Dalhousie, Tower, at a corner of DCA’s Jute Bar, behind that circular table covered by a floral cloth a fruit bowl in centre, in a felt coat and flat cap a rucksack on both shoulders, a maple wood handled umbrella above his head or Read More
for Jim They asked about the man in black; why does he wear the darkness so? I answered; Not the black of dull disguise but dapper coat drawn over clothes, clothes over flesh, flesh over soul. Not the black of a mourner’s hat but a flat cap that holds the lid upon a wise and Read More
For Jim Where the Tay flows wide To meet the tide Of the ocean’s spray That churned the way For many ships to wander free With Dundee’s yarns across the sea You returned To weave your yarns To spin swift tales In colourful bales That held the magic of your charm That kept your listeners Read More