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and there is more poem as well...

Love and Art )
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And since I am, suddenly, a queer poet as well as a queer novelist
another of the desire poems )

Writing

Aug. 20th, 2009 12:38 am
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For the first time in two months, a thousand words of novel, some of those words being quite good.
And a head of steam that brings with it yet another damn Desire poem.

Scars )
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But this is one of the final poems in the sequence. Endingpoem )

Went this evening to hear [livejournal.com profile] natalie456 read her very different poetry which is all verbal music and flirtations with meaning; the sort of thing that I like the more I think of it and which is as alien to anything I might write as sestinas and sonnets.

In the end, we just do what we do, in poetry and in life; I seem to be cashing in experience I banked twenty years ago. Talk about emotion recollected in tranquillity. 'You think it terrible that lust and rage/should dance attendance upon my old age'.
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I promised [livejournal.com profile] cillygirl that I would not let today pass without its poem, even if I got in late, so I managed a draft on the bus and spend the last hour or so working on it. Sometime soon, I must start the next critical book, and do more work on the novel - now I know that it was all Newton's fault.

Right now, though, yet another section of Ashes.Names have been changed )
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At some point, when I am closer to having a final draft, I will post the whole thing again.

Until such time, two poems from the Dark Side of the Roz; these demand other poems to give context of course. For now - and the Maitress poem 'Do not turn the head' comes between them, of course, all you need to know is that my unnamed lover moved in for a while on a not quite together not quite apart basis, and was seeing someone else, who was deeply jealous and eventually required that my lover move out, and not speak to me if we encountered in public. And in due course, they ended. So, two more episodes of this whole mess - I think that the poem as a whole is called 'Ashes', btw.

So - Suicide Note )



and Christmas Eve in Heaven )
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I am working on a big big poem, or group of poems, about a relationship years and years in my past that I never did all that much with, except for 'Faith by Nights' I suppose and 'Some Moments of Pleasure' - so actually I did quite a lot with it really. But not in ways that satisfied me.

Only now, I seem to be going to each of many memories, and harvesting them in turn. And here are a couple of those -angst a go go )

I really don't quite know what has got into me.
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I was sitting with some of the usual LJ suspects after TransLondon tonight and someone mentioned my Ashleigh-related poem in progress; and I recited some of the bits of it I know. And a couple of people went very quiet - later I got a text from one of them about how they both had girls with chrysanthemum haircuts in their past...

And I texted back:

'Oh god
The girls,
Girls with chrysanthemum
hair. They break our hearts
a petal at a time.'

Which is, I think, a section of the poem on its own, and also reminds me that I should stick in some short sections between the long ones.

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