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Showing posts from June, 2008

map trace poem

The map of the city almost means itself, flattened in my hand, almost but never flat. Ridges of cartographic data made by folding. How will the line fold here?

impasse

mechanical dreams to do with locks

some kind of exhaustion

in the acute direction of commerce the pressed markets there’s something of an emergency switch

ha-na-na-kewl

A second hay(na)ku anthology has hit the shops while I’ve been fluttering around the new job/new city thing. Edited by Jean Vengua and Mark Young , The Hay(na)ku Anthology Vol II is now available from Meritage Press. The volume is a joint production of Meritage Press (St. Helena & San Francisco) and xPress(ed) (Puhos, Finland). As most of you probably know by now, the hay(na)ku form consist of a tercet comprised of one-, two- and three-word lines. As you’ll see in the book, and possibly even on this and other blogs, many poets have also created variations from the basic form. The anthology contains work from 51 poets, including one (ah-hem) newly based in Adelaide. The form has got around the world and the National Autonomous University of Mexico/Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM) is now preparing a full Spanish translation of The First Hay(na)ku Anthology for future release.

oscillate water

curves of memory the fog brain centre and cycles scripting time waves in the course end to continue open my language whispers alarmed outside

out of my window

The sky is blue again today, though there are some clouds coming in. Wind sets the leaves going on the tree outside my office window, dying leaves sounding like rain. It does rain here; I have seen it, heard it, felt it. It is a city of car parks (and maybe churches). I don't have a car or a license so I catch the tram to work - free in my case, as I travel within the 'city mile'. Someone said to me the other day, 'Adelaide isn't like Sydney, people tend to meet in their houses'. That explains a lot. Certainly, they don't hang around nor entertain strangers readily. I amuse myself. There are a number of birds that fly above and around the place I am living in for a short while, in the south-west corner of the city. They seem to be the same, or not quite the same, as Sydney birds. I must get ahold of my bird book. They are the main reason I took a short lease here, as the area and the house itself is ordinary. It is also only a shortish walk to the Centra

In a country of surpluses

The incapacity of rock is bathed slowly in effects Children are blue in the dark of their diverse controls uniforms The end executes itself in the press of these things the excess of assemblies Outside the carrier of mornings in its brightness, remains calm and more aged than probably you’d guess These clouds look like others? A telephone supports somebody while on the diverse concrete one does not connect

figure

I'm sometimes very like me as “intellectual” as throwing up I can’t get rid of the poor little nonsense! I'm a strange type: travelling all alone “to see it” What can that self do with such visions? Look at everything with eyes skirting the obscene Push on through tearing the robe exciting suspicions And always holding a little figure the right point of view something striking