Sunday, January 23, 2005

collaboration

Welcome to my blog. I will publish some poetry on it every week, normally on a friday.

The poem is in italics. If you want to contribute to the poem in any way then please do so.If you want to you can:

Give the poem a title or name.

Add to it.

Suggest deletions.

Re-write some or all of it.

Add a picture or graphics.

Provide a link to somewhere else on the internet.

Make a comment.

Write a version of the poem or part of the poem in a language other than English.

Any of the above in a language other than English.


it was a hinge point one of those events where
the past began to close up on the future

it was a can of worms breaking out just
beneath the surface a cannot on every lip

we will or will do nothing I walked the streets
by day I travelled the elementary canal I trawled

the suds at the basin’s edge it was nothing to do with
rational it was every thing on legs that crawled or

human values like laughter or time and place
I could live anywhere or with any one seems like

I have extracted the meat from the bone
I have developed curvature of the upper back
I am wrapping myself in skin

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

seems like fun. i'll get back.

January 23, 2005 at 2:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I am chased and named and sought after and tangled and listed relisted sliced shot

the skin does not go far enough

bones through toes
failing

ends of my fingers
giving way

fixed with liquid bandage stuck

leaks

everything

in the end

begins to leak

Peter Finch

January 23, 2005 at 5:06 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

(it was a hinge point one of those events where)
the past began

it was                worms breaking out just
beneath the                        lip

   will         will do nothing I walked the streets
        or walked nothing or along I trawled
        for the lily lip for         breath
        that song        the earth

(the suds at the          edge, it was nothing to do with)
(rational     was every thing on legs that crawled or)

                       every thing
rational        
human values like laughter or time and place
(I could live anywhere or with any one seems like)
           extracted
I could
           grow into your arms
                                                        (any one)
                                            when
I have extracted the meat from the bone
I have developed curvature of the upper back
I am wrapping myself in skin
        I'll grow into your arms
          wi your green mantle blight the locked the trivial waterway
          and cover me out o sight whare fain fain would I sleep
          and keep me frae the rain

January 23, 2005 at 6:26 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

(Peter Finch's response => Gaelic)

Thathar an tòir orm is ag m'ainmicheadh is ag mo shireadh is mo chur tro-chéile 's mo chur is ath-chur ri liosta 's gu bàs is mo shlisneachadh

cha téid an craiceann fad' gu leòr

cnaimh tro na meuran-coise

a' fàilligeadh

barran mo mheuran
a' leigeadh às

air an ceangal le bann leaghte teann

a' snigheadh

tha a h-uile rud

mu dheireadh

a' leigeadh air
leigeadh às

January 23, 2005 at 7:55 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dear Ian: am late, as ever. I wrote this in response to your first poem. Still untitled.

a hermetic suture job, a religio (sic)

evolves out of ten commandments

an in/voluntary many
negotiate
one lock

an unguessed location where the uninvited

find asylum
a sadistic joke

one to suck out marrow
one de-form
one hide

Pete

January 30, 2005 at 8:59 PM  

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