@rhoda: I shall, and thanks. I had a remarkably short spring hiatus, but I feel aftershocks are in the works.
It's funny how everything, even correspondence, is like exercise: you work and work and you get kind of good at it, and then you stop for a little while and are rendered instantly weak and mentally dehydrated. Here, Spring is on pause for a cold break, and the crows are shouting about something. They are so much like us: I bet a lot of that urgent conversation is composed of "Hey! Hey now! Hey! Hey!".
What creeps me out is the way they co-operate with gulls. Some gulls disapprove; but the younger, foolish gulls play their game, and go food-getting together. I've been meaning to wrote a novel about that for fifteen years or so, but there is such a lot of poetry to get through!
There is a balance somewhere: the poenovel (and no, I ceretainly don't mean stacks of heroic(ly boring) stanzas in which various figures pirouette through gracelessly twisted language. No, i think it's possible that there is 'neutron poetry matter' out there: poetry so dense that entire novels merely occur as thoughts to the reader during the process.
Away I go to drink cold coffee. It's always cold! I need a little mug-warmer that plugs into the keyboard.
see you and this excellent pop-stand of ideas later...
(tuning back in) Ah, good! The show's still on.
ReplyDeletepeter, the show never stops. please visit our
ReplyDeleterefreshment stand as often as you like. we are
here to serve you!
@rhoda: I shall, and thanks. I had a remarkably short spring hiatus, but I feel aftershocks are in the works.
ReplyDeleteIt's funny how everything, even correspondence, is like exercise: you work and work and you get kind of good at it, and then you stop for a little while and are rendered instantly weak and mentally dehydrated. Here, Spring is on pause for a cold break, and the crows are shouting about something. They are so much like us: I bet a lot of that urgent conversation is composed of "Hey! Hey now! Hey! Hey!".
What creeps me out is the way they co-operate with gulls. Some gulls disapprove; but the younger, foolish gulls play their game, and go food-getting together. I've been meaning to wrote a novel about that for fifteen years or so, but there is such a lot of poetry to get through!
There is a balance somewhere: the poenovel (and no, I ceretainly don't mean stacks of heroic(ly boring) stanzas in which various figures pirouette through gracelessly twisted language. No, i think it's possible that there is 'neutron poetry matter' out there: poetry so dense that entire novels merely occur as thoughts to the reader during the process.
Away I go to drink cold coffee. It's always cold! I need a little mug-warmer that plugs into the keyboard.
see you and this excellent pop-stand of ideas later...