Check out the new addition to the side bar. I thought I would try something different for a couple of weeks. I saw this on another blog and had fun with it so– try it out. Let me know if they are worth keeping.
MNP Reading Series #201
Friday Jan 6/06
Mysteria 2706 13th Ave
Join us for some lively poetry and refreshments.
…are what I’ve been dealing with for the last hour or so. I don’t normally get them, but when I do they last a long time. Everyone has a cure, but tonight I’ve sat at my computer writing and my computer couldn’t care less. In fact, this is one thing I feel certain I’m alone in trying to cure. Funny, but I’ve never realised the extent a writer is alone until I’m faced with a case of the hiccups. And there is this: the struggle with trying to end this state quietly, simply. Also funny: it’s just the hiccups (but in my mind it’s always something bigger, what if it’s this, or this, or even just simply this…). What then? Hiccups make us mortal. Or is that immortal? Actually, who can tell when the screen keeps rising, and, just as suddenly, setting? Or is that settling? Or simply it is all this: unsettling.
As I’m eating them from my fridge, I’m thinking about all the other “stuff” that has been leftover from last year that I must get to this year–besides all the editing. I’m thinking about the numerous stories I’ve started and want to finish, and the myriad of fresh poems I should continue to cook. Like leftovers, I’m wondering if these pieces of text will eventually rot in the head? Maybe by the time I get to them they will have grown six inches of mold on their words. (This reminds me of the clamato juice at the back of the fridge in the cardboard box–how do you tell when it’s moldy in the box when you can’t see through the box?)
I keep thinking I’ll have time somewhere in the future to do this writing. Maybe my resolution this year should be to make resolutions. (Usually I don’t–they seem confining and then I just want to break them).
On another note, I’ve found Lisa Roberston‘s work very stimulating in the past year, esp. The Weather, but I also came across some Ted Berrigan with links to some sonnets. There’s something about the personal/confessional brashness of Berrigan that intrigues me.
And in searching, I also came across some work by Rachel Blau DuPlessis. I had only read academic essays of hers until recently. I find her work interesting, in a way similar to that of Robertson, although I think I find Roberston’s freshness–unlike leftovers– more appealing to my taste, whatever that is.