walking rehab

spring air shopping mall travellator

laundromat building site -pedometer

head held high

what now

A few weeks ago, I attended a short course on flash nonfiction, seeking inspiration how to flesh out some narrative pieces I want to include into an ethnography of 80,000 words-to-be.

What became clear though, and yes, it did arrive with a flash of ‘aha’ – was not about the flesh but how different a piece sits in itself depending on the title you give it. And surely, the title is the bit least relying on inspiration. It needs to be chosen rationally, to give an overview or a clue, a summary even a way ‘tell them what you are going to tell them’ kind of introduction. Or doesn’t it?

Again and again, it takes a leap of faith – to jump into inspired mode like the writer who said, I only write when I am inspired and I see to it that I am inspired every morning at 8.

Now, I am certainly not a morning person, but I guess I get the idea. It is the jump from 0 to 1. And it is always into the unknown. Unless you are a person of religious faith, then you have to untie all the knots first, the ones you have been tied up in since you were little. Before you can even look down and decide whether you want to jump.

But these knots can be just as tight for a non-religious child: At least part of the child has to believe the person who cares for them, even if they are horrible. If that’s the case, hug the disassociated part very tenderly only not to scare them – they might go out of their mind. Not until they are thawn out a bit, at least.

A while back, I met up with a friend I might have been childhood sweetharts with, even as we only met when I was not quite forty. 30 years on, we opened windows for eachother that will now never close.

It took the best part of 3 years – back and forth, fighting like cat and dog at times. I would do anything for him but the one thing he thought was unavoidable – that I accept his authority.

Until he knew not to – aha. Still tried to close the window again, out of habit, but noticed quickly: Not any more.

Now, I still have not got a title for what happened and – don’t even know how to celebrate: We both won. I need to let my pen, my fingers on the key board run ahead of me and follow their strange authority. Inspired.

Reader, I married him – might be a title, if it was that kind of friendship.

furrow

referring to old friends new

from 20 years ago – I learn

elders are gone

witness – magnetic poem

http://play.magneticpoetry.com/poem/Poet/kit/111859/?h=2fd70f304017cc271c6b6c1cbf587f87

dusk

engrossed in manuscript most of the day

exhausted my grey matter, files closing –

there is small owl greeting me.

not part of the party – magnetic poem

http://play.magneticpoetry.com/poem/Poet/kit/111310/?h=2fd70f304017cc271c6b6c1cbf587f87

alas, I did a much cheerier even sensual one this morning and it got lost in cyberspace. So there.

not a mistake

can you believe it –

near the railway track

far – a small owl,

not a dog

april cheat

lured into the park

radiant sun finally –

frost bites my hands

Hemingway – found haiku (almost)

“We are all broken. That is how the light gets in.” (EH)

light in all –

broken

to let in

spring sun shine

wild rose bush beaming

ealy sun against back wall –

I still need to grow

april chill

birds full chorus before dusk

leafy suburb – one cyclist lost

dull skies

beyond words – magnet original

http://play.magneticpoetry.com/poem/Original/kit/109475

my first attempt with the original kit

no-easter

grace bent backwards

to religion learned priest

not relented to learning

grace reaches beyond

his learning to

the heart

of the world

playing the scales

after my encouraging feedback from the zine nr 7, I shall endeavour to contribute monthly; that means I have to take my own key words from the news etc:

https://www.artistsrespondingto.co.uk/zine

Given my bigger writing project, this feels like practising the piano to keep my writing fingers nimble. Not that I would have a clue how to do that either.

following the news – experimenting with artist’s response

international industry boss

becomes government advisor

in the normal way

this struck me from the news: the govt’s response to criticism of the process; even in expertmental haiku I aim to juxtapose universal with specific and surprise the reader, so with this one I am not nearly there ; nota bene: govt corruption is NOT to be presented as a universal

I could include this in a series to get the context right, but what could I do with the haiku itself?

hiding in the normal process

industry boss turns

government advisor

or

industry boss as government

advisor: the normal process –

hiding

aide memoire – found poem

auf allen Wegen…

will ich

sie alle

erloesen

segments as remembered of a German translation of Buddhist 4 Vows, as heard in a secular Western meditation group, in German

childhood sweethearts

met when they were forty

still squabbling

at 70

a response to TS

not an escape

not an excuse

not making up

not constructing

but diving

retrieving

taking hold of

what might

otherwise

escape

attention

in limbo evening

in the strange wait between diagnosis and therapy, not expecting much …

http://play.magneticpoetry.com/poem/Poet/kit/108977/?h=d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e

courage?

better

a break

in your career

than in

your spine

(found poem: Senior German Actor Armin Mueller-Stahl)