Elizabeth Bishop's 'Large Bad Picture'

Don Paterson is an award-winning poet, editor and teacher, but for all his technical ability and the recognition that has been paid to his work Paterson is acutely aware of awe and sometimes envy when he looks at the work of other writers. Here he applies his wit and skills of technical analysis to discussing the five poems he wishes he had written. Tonight, Elizabeth Bishop's 'Large Bad Picture'.Large Bad Picture Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or some northerly harbor of Labrador, before he became a schoolteacher a great-uncle painted a big picture.Receding for miles on either side into a flushed, still sky are overhanging pale blue cliffs hundreds of feet high,their bases fretted by little arches, the entrances to caves running in along the level of a bay masked by perfect waves.On the middle of that quiet floor sits a fleet of small black ships, square-rigged, sails furled, motionless, their spars like burnt match-sticks.And high above them, over the tall cliffs' semi-translucent ranks, are scribbled hundreds of fine black birds hanging in n's in banks.One can hear their crying, crying, the only sound there is except for occasional sighing as a large aquatic animal breathes.In the pink light the small red sun goes rolling, rolling, round and round and round at the same height in perpetual sunset, comprehensive, consoling,while the ships consider it. Apparently they have reached their destination. It would be hard to say what brought them there, commerce or contemplation.