Work In Progress: Let the Poets (and ravens) Take Charge

My work-space is currently a poetry lab, but the poetry's not mine - Peter Kidd sent me some-odd pieces by priority mail so I can see what art may manifest to accompany them. I fixed the pages like butterflies* with long pins to my U.S. map, around and over the Presbyterian Migratory Trail where each generation of Ewing is marked with a different shade of plastic head. The ancestors will have to wait and support this project - every choice they made was for me, was for now, after all. Right?  

Take the risk.

This assignment coincides with the emotional birth of Deconstructed Corvid 3, which I saw in the rocks and moss growing between the carpets of my driveway. The carpets are not allegory nor metaphor. I'm not sure why they were laid out there initially, but as I move them throughout the winter to cover iced-over puddles I think I get the idea.

When Pete said he'd be mailing the pages, my first thought was that I should send them back illuminated like Medieval documents. A hand-written introductory note states that the subtitle of the ecology-based project is "Illuminated Poems." Pete knows that I know the handwriting is another bit of grail. Thank you, friend.

"I like the idea of connecting your constellation to the world of my constellation," he'd said when we talked about collaborating. And now it's here.

There's a thin breeze of cold air from the back yard and my Christmas-gift coffee on the desk while I marinate in the words on these pages. They're still fresh with magic - it emanates. Pictures are forming in the space between us, and when I can I will capture them and pen them down. I'm wearing my shitkickers, as Linda calls my cowboy boots, for ambience.

I've been sleepless again lately, but I know for certain that diphenhydramine is the cause of my insomnia. I'm one of the people who doesn't fall asleep taking this drug - I get drowsy about 20 minutes after taking it, but 20 minutes after that I'm awake and a little high regardless of whether I nap.  I take it when my allergy symptoms aren't manageable any other way, hopefully when I have time to be groggy.

A few years ago the insomnia cycle was torturous. Pete suggested I write a haiku each time I wake up, and then lay down again. I'd post them on Facebook, always titled Waking - 1,2,3, depending how many times I woke that night. Gradually, Pavlov's Structured Meter became a device I can use to pretty easily segue back into sleep. Here's last night's:

draw leaves in Black ink
rain in the tracks, gravel wings
refuse in the road

*so, that butterflies reference is an inside joke between me and myself:  I learned (grudgingly) how to deconstruct and examine poetry from Rob Haight. For my paper I chose Robert Frost's Acquainted With The Night, because I am and it's perfect. I prefaced my critique with a paragraph detailing how horrific I found it to flay a poem, fix it with pins like an ethered butterfly for display. Rob gave me an A and a "yeah yeah yeah" written across the top of the paper. He probably doesn't remember the butterfly thing.

Further Exploration:
Comet 46P/Wirtanen
See where I live: fine art posters depicting scenes literally from my front yard. You can get these or other designs put on t-shirts, posters, pint or shot glasses  - the options are practically limitless.  Let me know how I can help.

Igneus Press
See the culmination of Peter Kidd's poetry efforts - for years he's been bringing the illuminated and revolutionary to page. Now he's turning his work upon himself with his daughter, Sophie Kidd, taking the wheel.

Emergences and Spinner Falls - Robert Haight
All the things I didn't think I needed to know about writing I learned from Rob Haight.

Guiliani: Solo Guitar Music performed on 19th Century Guitar
Here's my soundtrack today. David Starobin reigns over a niche here.


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