I had the temerity to question this, and was told that it was an American poetry conference and that that was the way they do things; I wasn’t to worry, though, as there would be drink available on the final night.
Continue reading “poems and pints”
I said yesterday that I might post something I’d written at the American Poetry workshops in Nottingham, and then it seemed presumptuous to include what is no more than an initial workshop draft in a post where I mention so many recognised and respected poets, so I didn’t.
Here, though, is a piece from the prose poetry workshop that I may come back to and try and see where it leads. The words in italics are from a piece by Charles Simic.
Continue reading “prose poetry II”
I went for a massage today for the first time in many years. I chose to have a shiatsu massage, and as I lay face down wincing with the pain and visualising tomorrow’s bruises, I remembered my experience with acupuncture years ago, and the poem that it inspired.
If I can take time out to return to the masseur on a regular basis, I may even find the mental space to write something new. In the meantime, here’s something old:
Continue reading “alternative medicine”
I always check the stats page to see what people are searching for that leads them to the blog.
I already commented in pictures of pigs that I get a lot of visitors looking for “pig slaughter” – some of whom I hope go away satisfied that they’ve seen butchered swine on several pages, although, as yet, I’ve not actually been present at a matanza. (I do love the fact that Spanish doesn’t seem to distinguish between the idea of “slaughter” when it applies to approved animal killing for food, and “massacre” when applied to B-movie horror, e.g. La Matanza de Texas.)
Note that I’ve not been an eye-witness, but I have heard: there has to be a pun about “pigs’ laughter” and “squealing”, but I’m leaving that for another day.
Recently, though, there have been more searches for “science and technology poems”, and I think I am failing those potential readers. So I’d better do something about it (hence the post title).
Continue reading “self-fulfilling prophesies”
I dreamed of you last night and woke
to moonlight, sheet-tangled feet
cat-twisted and cold.I drowsed again, through decades, slipped
between cities and crossed continents,
embracing and embraced,
now chasing and now chased,
no pause between the kisses passed
from partner on to partner
down through the yearning years.I dreamed of you last night
and woke to moonlight.
(St John’s Eve – Midsummer Night – is celebrated across Spain with fire jumping in the street and general festivities. It’s supposed to be a time of powerful magic, and seemed a suitable title for this slightly chaotic dream poem.)
don't confuse the narrator 