haiku for an empty spoon
lying here alone:
my body, punctuation
marking an absence.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Friday, 22 January 2010
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
this is the devil's circus
I'm in London; I'm back at my old job for a bit; I'm spending a lot of time looking for diversions on the internet. Poetry sites provide a diversion, and so I pass it on to you, gentle readers...
splash
the illusion is that you are simply
reading this poem.
the reality is that this is
more than a
poem.
this is a beggar's knife.
this is a tulip.
this is a soldier marching
through Madrid.
this is you on your
death bed.
this is Li Po laughing
underground.
this is not a god-damned
poem.
this is a horse asleep.
a butterfly in
your brain.
this is the devil's
circus.
you are not reading this
on a page.
the page is reading
you.
feel it?
it's like a cobra. it's a hungry eagle circling the room.
this is not a poem. poems are dull,
they make you sleep.
these words force you
to a new
madness.
you have been blessed, you have been pushed into a
blinding area of
light.
the elephant dreams
with you
now.
the curve of space
bends and
laughs.
you can die now.
you can die now as
people were meant to
die:
great,
victorious,
hearing the music,
being the music,
roaring,
roaring,
roaring.
Charles Bukowski
splash
the illusion is that you are simply
reading this poem.
the reality is that this is
more than a
poem.
this is a beggar's knife.
this is a tulip.
this is a soldier marching
through Madrid.
this is you on your
death bed.
this is Li Po laughing
underground.
this is not a god-damned
poem.
this is a horse asleep.
a butterfly in
your brain.
this is the devil's
circus.
you are not reading this
on a page.
the page is reading
you.
feel it?
it's like a cobra. it's a hungry eagle circling the room.
this is not a poem. poems are dull,
they make you sleep.
these words force you
to a new
madness.
you have been blessed, you have been pushed into a
blinding area of
light.
the elephant dreams
with you
now.
the curve of space
bends and
laughs.
you can die now.
you can die now as
people were meant to
die:
great,
victorious,
hearing the music,
being the music,
roaring,
roaring,
roaring.
Charles Bukowski
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Sunday, 10 January 2010
January is for chipping away at the soul.
At least in the world of the self-employed performer.
I'm back in London for a few weeks, doing holiday cover at my old (non-performance related) job. It's an easy job and good money, even more so for an ice-blasted January in Britain when there's precious little of any other work around. But still...I'm suffering separation blues from my town and my clown. I'll suck it up and be an adult. It's only a few weeks.
Yesterday I took a day trip to Birmingham, to hear a sound installation by my friend Annie, the result of two weeks she spent making recordings deep in the Amazon at Lago de Mamori. It was lovely to catch up with her and her family, who have been a surrogate family for me here in the UK in the past. I met the newest 6 week-old addition to the clan, and sat with her in my arms surrounded by the sounds of the jungle. It was a good day. I'm lucky to know someone who hears the world in such a different way from me, and has the creative tools to share this perspective. These things repair the chips to the soul that January brings...
I'm back in London for a few weeks, doing holiday cover at my old (non-performance related) job. It's an easy job and good money, even more so for an ice-blasted January in Britain when there's precious little of any other work around. But still...I'm suffering separation blues from my town and my clown. I'll suck it up and be an adult. It's only a few weeks.
Yesterday I took a day trip to Birmingham, to hear a sound installation by my friend Annie, the result of two weeks she spent making recordings deep in the Amazon at Lago de Mamori. It was lovely to catch up with her and her family, who have been a surrogate family for me here in the UK in the past. I met the newest 6 week-old addition to the clan, and sat with her in my arms surrounded by the sounds of the jungle. It was a good day. I'm lucky to know someone who hears the world in such a different way from me, and has the creative tools to share this perspective. These things repair the chips to the soul that January brings...
Thursday, 7 January 2010
snow time like the present...
We've had a bit of snow here in Wales.
This is entitled: SnowGirl contemplates the Inevitability of Thaw.
And this one: SnowGirl contemplates Death by Swan.
This is a winter self-portrait. I'd call it SnowAngel, but I'm not.
This is entitled: SnowGirl contemplates the Inevitability of Thaw.
And this one: SnowGirl contemplates Death by Swan.
This is a winter self-portrait. I'd call it SnowAngel, but I'm not.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
January is for eating vegetables.
Happy New Year!
I had a good festive season. Christmas day was passed with the Clown, the Alpha Couple and my sister. The Clown and I spent most of the day in the kitchen, which is where we both love to be. We had a trio of birds: duck stuffed with a partridge (yup, you read that right - death was the least of the indignities suffered by that duck) and a pheasant on the side. This after eating a stuffed ox heart the night before. 'Tis the season to feast.
I generally enjoy new year's eve better than Christmas though, and this year was no different. Perhaps it's because I haven't yet found a new Christmas tradition of great personal significance. I've got the memories of childhood family Christmases, which I treasure. But what do you do when you're older, don't have any children for whom you might want to recreate that childhood Christmas, and have no connection to or interest in either the commercial or religious version of the festival? I'm far from being a dirty hippy, but I love that the season is a celebration of the winter solstice. It's my favourite solstice, a reminder that winter is not so long and the days only get lighter from here. Much better than the summer solstice, which leaves me thinking: WHAT? HOW? It's only just got warm!!! So my plan for next Christmas is to find some way to reconnect to that hope: that the night is never as long as it feels, and even in the depth of darkness there's a promise of the spring to come...
Back to new year's eve, my third in Cardiff, which is impressive considering I only moved here in September. I spent the evening with, well, everyone really. We started at our house with a good riddance ritual and then split into two parties to head into town. I was part of the Second Annual New Year's Ghost Train, an idea the Clown had last year. We dress in white, deck ourselves with strings of lights, and then cycle through town, arriving at the centre in time for the fireworks. Next year: more lights and more elaborate costumes. From town, we headed to a circus party across the river, and then from there (we really shouldn't have been on bicycles by this point) back to the east side of town to yet another party. I was a relative light-weight and packed it in at 4 a.m.
And now it's the first few days of a new year. My body craves exercise (5.5 miles running yesterday) and, as an indication of just how much festive feasting I've been enjoying of late, I've been having odd fantasies about steamed broccoli...
No broccoli tonight, but a break from meat: butternut squash curry and spiced red cabbage on the side.
I had a good festive season. Christmas day was passed with the Clown, the Alpha Couple and my sister. The Clown and I spent most of the day in the kitchen, which is where we both love to be. We had a trio of birds: duck stuffed with a partridge (yup, you read that right - death was the least of the indignities suffered by that duck) and a pheasant on the side. This after eating a stuffed ox heart the night before. 'Tis the season to feast.
I generally enjoy new year's eve better than Christmas though, and this year was no different. Perhaps it's because I haven't yet found a new Christmas tradition of great personal significance. I've got the memories of childhood family Christmases, which I treasure. But what do you do when you're older, don't have any children for whom you might want to recreate that childhood Christmas, and have no connection to or interest in either the commercial or religious version of the festival? I'm far from being a dirty hippy, but I love that the season is a celebration of the winter solstice. It's my favourite solstice, a reminder that winter is not so long and the days only get lighter from here. Much better than the summer solstice, which leaves me thinking: WHAT? HOW? It's only just got warm!!! So my plan for next Christmas is to find some way to reconnect to that hope: that the night is never as long as it feels, and even in the depth of darkness there's a promise of the spring to come...
Back to new year's eve, my third in Cardiff, which is impressive considering I only moved here in September. I spent the evening with, well, everyone really. We started at our house with a good riddance ritual and then split into two parties to head into town. I was part of the Second Annual New Year's Ghost Train, an idea the Clown had last year. We dress in white, deck ourselves with strings of lights, and then cycle through town, arriving at the centre in time for the fireworks. Next year: more lights and more elaborate costumes. From town, we headed to a circus party across the river, and then from there (we really shouldn't have been on bicycles by this point) back to the east side of town to yet another party. I was a relative light-weight and packed it in at 4 a.m.
And now it's the first few days of a new year. My body craves exercise (5.5 miles running yesterday) and, as an indication of just how much festive feasting I've been enjoying of late, I've been having odd fantasies about steamed broccoli...
No broccoli tonight, but a break from meat: butternut squash curry and spiced red cabbage on the side.
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