Sunday, January 31, 2010
I'm dreaming of the island of Skye (which I've never visited) and I know that the capital is Maeb. The word Maeb is extremely important: I must note it down and repeat the word. I know this in the dream: I am being told something important that I must explore. The net tells me that Maeb is Queen Maeb--I'm not a Jungian, but I'm Irish (Dad's side) and Cumbrian (Mum's side) and not that surprised that I've stumbled on to Queen Mab (or she has stumbled onto me). No amount of rational neurology will ever reduce the significance of the dream for me as message even though I cannot explain where this message comes from or even if it counts as a determinable message with a fixed content and an sender and addressee (as I am all three!). Outside of the punishing constraints of required academic reading I have the luxury of reading Shelley. My go(o)dd(n)ess, there are some very peculiar poems out there. Now, I don't take any of this too seriously, but for me poetry is in part about being open to these connections even if they are only feathers or seeds in the wind.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Here's the seven
Thursday, January 21, 2010
After New Year
This morning I packed away the Christmas tree
and flicked through a book
of science fiction movie posters
gifted by a thoughtful aunt.
I turned to the poster for 1984’s
2010: The Year We Make Contact and
remembered John Lithgow’s hapless
spacewalk, some unconvincing
special effects, and Roy Scheider
cast as the mission’s captain after
his maritime experience in Jaws.
This year, I thought,
I bet we wont make contact,
given the disappointments
of Mars, the silence of the night skies
(no ancient civilizations shouting primes)
and despite all those abductions
of camera and phone, not one
decent picture of a bona fide UFO.
We thought we could shrink space
just as we shrank the world
with planes, trains and container ships
by pirates off the Somalian coast,
but the universe refuses to be shrunk;
we’re safe from visitors
and they are safe from us.
It’s as if we grew on a remote
Pacific atoll; everyone’s related
and nobody knows if there’s
habitable land beyond the blue horizon;
we’ve few canoes and the fastest vaka
reaches only halfway to the treacherous reef
and granted if we crossed that,
dodged the sharks and mermaids,
we’d still have to tackle
the perils of the far reaches told in song.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Budapest Autostake is on
but you can write
to the notary
begging her to withdraw
residential parking zones.
Yes, there are complaints
And the more people speak
the better the notary feels
unless she's talking to
"Bernard of Thunder."
Here's the seven:
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Nothing much to report: just writing and editing as I do over the holidays. All's going well. I finished a submission and sent it off and now I'm working on polishing some poems for an editor I just happened to bump into in town. Good movies I watched on DVD this week: a documentary on Robert Crumb and Bergman's amazing 'The Silence' (which I'd never seen before). Here's this week's list: