Cold it's on a warm day!
Cold it's on a warm day!
I remember only one, no two moments
when the topic was raised, packed emotion.
One, as a young child,
my Sister, my Nana, something about
a Tattoo. Shivering.
Two, older. My Mother
waited, with the video unplayed,
for me to visit, to watch it.
Also, I'm circumcised.
Do I qualify for a schism?
Out my Window, holes in the ground.
Men with wheel-barrows, spikes,
metal poles, sheets of sharp black mesh,
their smallest dimension: eight feet;
tools. All the ingredients
to make big fences
this is all happening now
big fences that begin and end
in other fences. Fenced in,
I'm witnessing it.
One is almost new, ugly, hated.
The other old, small, known..
Out my other window, The Wide Grass, cut
one eye to the other it goes, on
to where our copse of trees forms
a playhouse, guards the corner.
I see its future, rights-of-way squeezed
into a half-doughnut, backing
into bruised trees. Cursing.
Injury. Rough cuttings.
Something feels like colditz,
and did I get a letter? Maybe,
processed in some past recycling.
I had nothing to do with it, then.
The bag blew away!
But maybe I want to. Now.
Take some big scissor, and chop it down.
No! Paused there,
So that makes three.
I had nothing to do with it.
It's the price of peace,
I can work with it.
FRIDAY Nov 14, 2008
This is actually happening as I blog, watching the fence-builders; I remember a poem from my childhood, two farmers that meet, once a year, to repair the damage between the stone wall separating their land. Outside, being erected right now, is the third and by far the most ambitious, local fence, actually joins together two existing fences, struck me most poetic-like.
Sister, Mother, Nana. You got that, right? It's about me and women, and woman in me. It's about three individual barriers to being, that coalesce over time, in the mind. And more, when I can pin that stuff down (it's a bit like sketching moving butterflies, first time around).
Fence one is the part of the original Logie fencing, less than waist-high, simple boundary. The second, a semi-hexagonal blueprint for what-was-to-come-has, already encompassing three of four sides of the oldest, smallest (only two houses!) and most charming block in the heighbourhood, which, believe it or not, my Nana lived in as a child - Most locals don't even have this fact, by the way, so keep it to yourself as long as you can! Mum's the word. I'm trying to be humble in the real world, see; as balance. Anyway, they're gonna knock most of it down soon enough. And it struck me most poetic-like.
And so there you have it (I have this code where I aim to stick to my word, teaching me how to say "No", because when you do the numbers, you can't say Yes to everyone. As some emailers will know, I often say No in the politest of ways); actual, as-it-happens, shareware poetry. As promised. First Draft. In future, I may or more likely may not take up blogspace with this stuff, much more likely I'll create sections on-site inside /words/, drop stuff in sneaky0like, from the get-go, originals.
Actually, I already started that, some time ago, and do archive the trickle of mail it generates. Thank you. I'm keen to know about your feelings when you read it aloud. How it feels in your mouth and face, and/or in your other feelings and thoughts. I'm nosey, and know that in the indernet numbers game, someone will indulge me. Because I deserve it!
I'm also really keen; as with my other stuff; to see where you upload it! I promise I won't charge; unless you are mega-corp and take the piss. I like to be among the first to know when my jism is being spread around, as it were, if you've got a minute, ta. It's way better than all those, "Cor! Have you seen this site ripping you off!" emails. Tell-tales! No, please, keep doing that! I like that! heheh.
The banging is becoming irritating, my noise barrier on full, which is dense on the ears, and I'm getting chills. I must sleep.
I'll post this tomorrow.