Last night’s Red Chair Event honoured Matcham Skipper.  His nephew Sigmund Jorgensen spoke of his uncles life and times.  Jenni Mitchell put together a presentation of her memories of Matcham.  This was beautifully read by Mandy Press. Andy Drewitt’s definitive video presentation was shown. August Skipper, Matcham’s grandson, read a poem he wrote shortly after his Grandfather’s passing.

The Barn was filled to capacity.  There was a lot of love in the room

It gives me the greatest pleasure to publish August’s poem in memory of Matcham Skipper.




Where a little pillar of smoke rises

a little house has fallen

a hole in memory gives way

to one thousand tears


the distant rumble of a machine eating oil

secret rivers cross deep beneath my feet


my grandfather is dead now

not victim to some long forgotten war

pacified instead

by a life worn to its very edges


he did not cease to be human

in his final hours

but instead found that thing

moments before he passed


in life I could not find his praise

many could not

& settled upon silence

as the wisest work of art


& when his teeth slipped into nonsense

and he did not come around any longer

haranguing me

or my imaginary works


I thought I had lived to see his defeat

defeated by a hole in memory

defeated by his own mauled stories


by a 25 mile procession

the tsar & the revolutionary guard

parading down the tin shed promenades of Moscow

by the white box beneath the hills of Montsalvat

which loosed the mystery upon the world

two lions splinter through his television

neon waves break in the kitchen


it seems the trees have outgrown the monument

paired halves of this great view

sealed inside a single green corridor

I am no longer aching to find out

what is waiting on the other side

I realised I have arrived

already here


My sincere thanks to August for allowing me to publish his poem.