Sky summer evening

Sky summer evening

Wednesday 29 December 2010

GOBBLE-DI-GOOGLE

"You could say that all we're doing, really, is replicating someone else's thoughts. And aren't we soon to be replaced by machines? I don't think so. Here is the sublime first sentence of Orhan Pamuk's Istanbul: Memories of a City as rendered by Google Translate: "A place in the streets of Istanbul, similar to ours in a different house, with everything I like, twin, or even exactly the same, starting from childhood lived another Orhan a corner of my mind I believed for many years." - Maureen Freely, The Guardian [http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/nov/28/maureen-freely-translation-orhan-pamuk?INTCMP=SRCH]

I've been fishing for Finnish flash-fiction and pieces of poetry. Found on the webosphere? All in finnish, un-englished; fresh. Food for thought: a calling? Perhaps in years I'll fill my tongue with the language. Google's garbled word-by-word begs my mercy right now, and I can but grant.

What happens when a writer is re-read and presented by a programme?

Risto Rasa - "Koira tulee illalla"
The dog comes in the evening
home.
When it rotates in place
and fall asleep,
begins at its heart the heat spread
rooms

Monday 27 December 2010

MONDAY

FLAG: the "night before" wraps Tuesday in patterned paper: it's been done before, but I've never unwrapped this one before; an apple-core
SEMI-OBSESSIVE-LISTENING: Snippets of songs I recall from Beats and Bars
POETRY? phase of prose
Keep smilin'

Thursday 16 December 2010

Reeling?

...and Writhing;

A module: We read
old stories, Responding to
them, in poetry
All poems labelled "Reeling"
Are from that quite mighty class!

FLAG: No Fowl Moods Here.
SEMI-OBSESSIVE-LISTENING: STILL Devendra Banhart "a ribbon", and "at the hop", and Arcade Fire Funeral
POETRY? Eyes out for open mic nights in dorset!
Keep smilin'

Wednesday 15 December 2010

RUMMAGED

After Neighbourhood #2: Laika by Arcade Fire

Exhibit: C
You don’t see how I see - how I saw this Earth's sphere: colours -
All-and-sundry for you but for me all was sepia. Dour
And a face at the glass – tongue-out, snouted. See-through
And through? No blues and teals, but electric twinkles; pretty
Static flickers of cities; stars inherent one in each eye, dazzled
And oh howl, a glow enfolding, bright holder; haloed.
And I to you – a creature too? A stray to you, I was prey to you: fodder
To a mission. When you made the decision, a bark on my behalf?
I bow. Maybe I’m sour about your control; power
can command your hand to hurt a fly, if you’re stronger
I know I know I know, I do; if you need something, you rummage
I know, it’s not me, not personally. You’d just seen me and...Taken.
Am I see-through too? Looking up at you I’d have smiled – if I’d been able to

Exhibit: B, Papers.
Just papers rustle the proof I existed. They whistle my fate - Flimsy.
Like listening memory: Up on high, way on high, only my whimpers
sound so inflected I might have swallowed my own notes; unheard
Well, I would tell how: whisked from streets where I, feral, fended,
And jettisoned. Befuddling technology blinking; wires
Checked when my ears flicked (curious) and then pricked (spurious) then: terror
(Unreadable) set in by day two.

Exhibit: a
lead, clipped to tagged skeins of rope; pewter.
Caught, they fed more rope to choke my sprint; master.
Blank statements and gestures suggested adventure; space-walk
Then a warm palm deigned to grace my face, and I licked; Lapdog.
Wanted, I followed. The facility (my new place) was tight - sputnik
A shit-pit, cynically painted white with steel; circuits,
Computers flickered on quiet walls. Space-walls. Lights-out,
It felt a crypt (turns out, quite correct; most apt) I slept; alone
awaiting day one. It’s a shame there’s not enough
Space to take one small step.

HOMECOMING

After the crucifixion

Home:
Doorway
opened like
sun-hands to him
Muffled, he gasps the mottled words to me, wracked; his
Testament

Son.
Bolted
Down and packed
Off to heaven
Pitch-backed, a twitch, his hands perpetually shake
Scabbed.

He
Thrice died.
Thrice denied ;
ludicrous that
Judas took part in the beating.
Snake

Peter,
Gone, had
crept away
and wept away
A week of nights had slipped away while son kept awake.
Reading

Hush.
Pages
Sh-flick-sh
in silent nights
shunning the human dreams and the nightly creens and the memory of
Marching

Vague

pictures

seen through gauze.

I cannot recall -

It’s a pocked

Recollection

Voices speaking at either shoulder

behind my back I cannot turn and see
real Thieves? Or dreams cleaving the real?

Did I stop

to talk as

I hefted

my deathbed?

How many

times a fall?

A fall at all?

I think it was

a trinity.

Nothing vivid?

I recall browns,

Yellow sky,

splinters.

Stinging

every hour

(on the hour)

another string, it

feels

like

the death of a friend;

A pain that can not fade.


Fools.
They praised
His birth; thanked,
thrived and feasted
With Spiced wine, Cratchit. Now tangled in his matted curls;
thorns

Christ,
Hush child.
Spidered, he
Spread fingers up
To me, “I’m back” he lied, even now
Forgiving.

Tuesday 14 December 2010

Finland

Beckons. Get there
FLAG: Groke? The arch-enemy, the groke is a cax!
SEMI-OBSESSIVE-LISTENING: Devendra Banhart "a ribbon",
Arcade Fire "rococo"
POETRY? Forthcoming.
Keep smilin'