Friday, September 30, 2016

Testing Image

About to start, one image to test, an inspiration, Andy Goldsworthy.

Rob Schackne #91

Another Fine Mess

Then welcome the ghost
that brought the mystery
install in your easy chair
supply with food and drink
put on some Shostakovich
show some recent poems

refrain from asking questions
let it be for at least an hour
you've always felt it…is that right?
do you mean we should be awed?

write the answers in invisible ink
ask her if she wants a shower

watch awhile from the other room
then go about your business.

Eva Mok #29: Distribution of Longevity Rice

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Sarah Rice #29 'Tree'

Outside the window
you stood
to my bed-prow
and I sleeping 
and there we rode
the night together
on shared dark water
with your roots
in my dreams
and my quiet
in your leaves
now we branch
into separate days
you gather breath
and I expend it

Lies Van Gasse #269

 (dag 1-243)

en dit na meer dan twee weken stilte
die ik ongemerkt, maar beslist heb opgeëist
- halverwege deze krachtmeting
kwamen er geen woorden meer uit mijn mond,
geen gedachten uit mijn haar,
geen ideeën uit mijn vingertoppen.

Drie seconden:
weet je nog hoe volmaakt de dingen

(day 1-243)

and this after more then two weeks of silence
that I’ve demanded unnoticed, but firmly
- halfway through this power struggle
words stopped coming out of my mouth,
thoughts stopped growing out of my hair,
ideas out of my finger tips.

Three seconds:
do you still remember  how perfect things are

Robert Verdon, #313, double-jointed insights

blotting paper mansion
warping walls ruled feint
immortelle soul sunk in
blood-black soil
infinite onion cosmos
in an accordion wheeze of wind
grey nurse gust crosses the sky
corrugated blast
mistral mistletoe
dainty whalebone
David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas
willing millstone
sleazy bunsen burner
postage stamp garden city
lazy meringue valley
cosmopolitan gut bacteria
A.B.C. Children’s Hour
cleaning out my tiny house
sick of skin-flake dust
and everything in the way of everything else
(a topological absurdity?)
daydreaming of the rich gambling on real
estate because the stock market is
not profitable enough any more
how could this be true?
green lights under trees
vertical curlicues
slippery terraces
Adelaide black as sump-oil
tiny houses without land
missionary kedgeree
skyscrapers float sideways on the lake
skittering water-boatman town
and graveyards by it

Susan Hawthorne #273 shearers' beds

the beds were low and narrow
iron frame painted black
thin mattress covered
in black and white stripes
they were bulgy the mattresses
not flat like they are today
a kapok pillow which made
me sneeze all night
thin sheets too and prickly
blankets that scratched
your face and yet I recall
these beds with fondness
something about the time
it represents basic and simple
when the shearing season
was done the beds were
folded away or moved
to the sleep-out where we
children slept in summer

Juan Garrido Salgado# 29-29 Desierto Florido

Desierto Florido 1  # 29-29

El desierto se enamoró de una flor sobre el abrazo de un oasis.

Fecundo besos  de arena nocturna

huellas invisibles de cuerpos

multiplicó los pétalos sin peces

alimentó el agua como corazón de raíces

y beso a beso que lanzó la luna cada noche por un siglo o más

ahí en el desierto de Atacama.

Así lo contó un viejo cactus en medio del camino  a su  hogar.

Flowering desert 1

The desert fell in love with a flower on the embraced of an oasis.

Fecund night kisses sand

invisible traces of bodies

 multiplied petals without fish

fed water as heart root

and kiss to kiss that threw the moon every night for a century or more

there in the Atacama Desert.

So he told an old cactus in the way home.

Kit Kelen 273 - in a story

in a story

all these people
who'd rather be at home
darning their socks sweeping their floors
ccoking up something delicious

those in a story
are a little like the poor
the hapless, the displaced
a part of the prison population

one feels for them
and one avows
let's you and I not go there

such terrible things transpire

in a story
all these people
who'd rather be
where they were before
who'd rather be we're the going

every form of comfort eludes them
what can you say to them?

some would rather be dead
than find themselves
in a certain kind of story

but we wouldn't leave them there
we couldn't leave them be

some days it's as if they knew we were watching
but that never lasts for long

they suffer
and who isn't happy not to?

each privation is instructive
every stray arrow is aimed for the heart

in a story
all these people
who'd rather be free
to go their own way

you must warn all your friends and relations
never to be in such a place

where in the world?
eyes down to reveal it
to unravel

the ones who tap at the gate of eternity
just because they're qualified

they'd rather just cosy up by the fire
in the glow of a yarn, or better still, song

they'd rather be reading a story 


Sarah St Vincent Welch #261 writing a chapter (for LM)

I need to start where I have been
trace over with another colour
tell an aspect of the story again
recast it, change the details
if I don’t know a word
I have to find it
I ask everyone
or it’s the bottle stopper
the plug
the lock
I sit with open dictionaries
wiki this and wiki that
ask strangers
get on the hooter
what the hell’s that thing called
it’s holding up a whole chapter
and it does

Lesley Boland #27 misunderstanding

interrupts flow
makes a joke of routine
separates love from interaction

Lucy Alexander #29 Amanita muscaria – the Fly Agaric

Preening gills
whiter than starlight
blithe in the shade
so fruiting body
so labial
and yet
the musk scent
of upturned moss and
the slow slow thrust
of such a creature
pointing heavenward
as if made of old sunlight
as are we all.

He doesn’t breathe heavily
of weight and matter earthy
he’d show you several dimensions
if you put him in your belly
to curse his sharpened spear
the rant in the night as he
slowly poisoned  your
ability to dream
or know the constellations
that hover so
on his toady red skin.

The sun will have him back
dry him crispy
so soon the grandeur
sinks back to soil
and another year
will know the offspring
rising so from loamy gravesites
hovering up surface-ward
to inherit the earth.

Mikaela Castledine #Busy

So busy making small black birds
I haven’t time for sewing
words together and properly
weighting them
to stand alone on their
little legs

Lizz Murphy - Post 270: Head vii.

Danny Gentile #57

even for the small
mediocrities  that come my way
and the few simplicities

Making it easy
for a time

Though time will never be
the full extension
and that
has a rightness to it

The green-backed storm abated
I see it pull
it's lightning sleeve

I would cast a rune
but sometimes need
days to determine themselves

Sometimes craving vacillation
is not a bad thing

Time to find something positive
under the pillow
for goodness knows
that tears
have watered it enough.

Danny Gentile #56

Storm centre receding
winds decreasing

but coddled
in my room

I know
they will return

they will return