Conversation, Sitting on a Porch Swing, Drinking Coffee, Waiting, Sunday Morning, End of October

Conversation, Sitting on a Porch Swing, Drinking Coffee, Waiting

the ticksnap detach of the elm leaves,
they speak loudest.
a detachment of geese
gibbering to each other, “OutOutOut”.
nuthatches finding
the sunflower seeds in the feeder.
(We would’ve thought the greedy goldfinches
would’ve been first, but no.)
chickens rustling through
the fallen leaves
for…we know not what
nor do they till they find it.
the faint thrum of the interstate
getting stronger as the trees
take their leaves.
high, fast cirrus above
and clover and orchard grass
rising below.
time to grovel for
sweet taters and peanuts
to roast and toast
under Orion
and all the Milky Way.
the sugar bush–a whisper of
‘maybe this year we will rise’.
time for the house plants to get
their night cover
and for the rain lily to come inside
and rest.
And the last rose of summer,
our folk diva, sings.
we are waiting
but the gingko hasn’t budged a single inch off green
toward caution yellow.
we look at each other
our eyes asking–
we are waiting?
we are awaiting.

What’s Going Down Here?

One of the best ways to share with and honor the work of your friends is to take time, slow down, and make the effort to read one of their posts or videos or poems or images or songs.  I use the word “read’ very broadly.  I view all of these media as text.  They are all machines in their own way, but without cogs or visible energy sources.  In fact they are the only perpetual motion machines ever invented.  Text engines.  All of them.

But you have to prime their pumps sometimes when they have wound down a bit and are going very slowly.  That is what I am trying to do with Simon Ensor’s recent post.  His poemposts haven’t run down by any means. If anything they are too tightly wound and move too quickly. What I think they need is a slow release of the clockwork inside to let the energy into the world in a different way.

That is what I have done here.  I have attempted a close reading through a kind of Babel Fish–Lumen 5.  Because you have to ‘translate’ the words from one medium into another, you get a feel for the tension of the springs in the post.  At least I do.  Close reading by translating.  Any deep understanding of any text has to involve this idea of translating, an apt metaphor considering Simon makes his living by teaching English to French students.

Here is the original post.   By all means read it.  Get your own initial feel for it, a sense of touch for its heft and texture and tone.

Now take a look at my translation into Lumen 5.  See if it doesn’t expand the world of his post through the intertwingling of music, image, video, text and typography.


Poem Gif

Playing around with the unfortunately named LiceCap. I have messed about with it before, but I don’t remember it being so dead easy to use.  Thanks to Aaron Davis for the reminder.

I copied a short story I wrote for Mastodon’s #shortstories hashtag and then pasted it into iWriter, my no-frills writing space.  I captured it with Licecap as I edited live with one take. Licecap generated the gif automatically. Here it is:

Sorry that the type is so small. I can see using this as a way to demonstrate revision in poetry, how idiosyncratic it is, how shallow it often is, how much deeper it needs to be.

If you click on the gif it is much bigger  and you can see how much the cursor jinks and janks across the page.  I was not aware of how much I did this. It is not just a nervous tic, but a reflection of something going on elsewhere in my mind.  At least it seems that way.  Fruitful research here on  mouse/mind behavior? I wonder if it parallels the jittering of the eye, the saccades.