about having that mystical experience as one
finds a god-of-one’s-own amongst the trees
sometimes it is not enough to move exclusively through a heavy literary world
enter the echo chamber and never get out again
sometimes one just needs some more personal space on the page to experiment with
sometimes one just needs to write out a list of chemical elements to at least
satisfy that craving for connection
juxtaposed with a line about a night heron craning its neck over a pool of contaminated water
leave it on the bus for someone else to read
sometimes things need to be a little more transparent than
‘will not accept simultaneous submissions’
we all crave a little bit of openness
thoughts that are allowed to spill out onto the page
to have already been published online somewhere.
you know, i have written my first poetry pamphlet!
(that maybe the first & last exclamation mark i have ever made) &
it’s all ready to be sent out into the world, to be calved.
now i look back on it it-
i think- is a stuttering attempt at eco-poetry, although
it IS about death, OK?
it is also a document
/a list of chemicals
/an archive of found objects
/a record of supermarket finds
/a transcript of recordings i made on my phone
/a reference to a Dulux colour chart &
uses a lot of space
and all along i had no idea where it would fit into the scheme of things
whether it should even have a name
because i didn’t want to write about finding myself in a forrrest
i wanted to write about finding the forrrest inside me
but not only that
i wanted it to be a muddled, hashed-up mess of a thing
like how life was when i wrote it
do you think that is what an eco-poem could possibly be?
the stuff above was written in response to this podcast. hope that helps.