Tag Archives: bees

Day 06 — collecting books + obsessions

Collecting is a strange thing. It’s sometimes hard to explain why one does it. For example, I like things to do with chickens. So I have prints, statues, sculptures, plates, even a pair of bookends featuring chooks.

So too with books. I have many diverse interests (more specific than just big genre-size categories: fantasy, science-fiction, historical, crime, or non-fiction like science [itself having many subcategories I collect: physics, the universe/astronomy, nature/biology, the elements, etc], history [WW1&2, British/Australian, Palestine/Israel, etc], politics, travel writing, & so on) or the work of specific favourite writers that I must own everything of theirs they write.

Sometimes I acquire small collections about topics I think I might one day write about. Thus I have numerous books about Gold, Winemaking, Christmas, Lighthouses, Chocolate, & so on.

But then there’s sets of books I’m simply compelled to buy. No matter how awful they might be. Even if I’ll never read them. Simply because they fall into one of my Pet Loves categories. They make up the matter for this poem.

The first quote that I saw upon googling for my Poetic Factoid broke me. I knew I couldn’t improve on it. Thus what you get today is pretty brief … but I hope I’ve been a little creative with its form.

*****

collectabilia: pet loves

Foxes, Wolves, Owls, Crows, Ravens
any book with these words
in the title must become mine 
   (several, several times)

Cornwall
sirensong, family ancestry, Famous Fivery
long ago looking at Land’s End in an atlas 
& wanting to watch the sun set over the sea there

Venice
love affair with a magical city
began long before i ever travelled there
spent more time in fictional Venice than La Serenissima herself

Heron
less common to come across these 
but treasure every quirky title concerning
my gangly soul spirit animal

Hare
love their wild solo madness 
many of these titles are delightfully illustrated
children’s books — which is okay by me

Booker winners
an ever growing bookcase 
chronologically filled with annual shortlistees
& winners — I’ve even read some of them

still there’s many more: Dogs, Dandelions, Bees, 
books on Eden Valley (not the one I live in
but the English one I’d like to live in)

to be honest — the list probably never ends 
just diverges into smaller 
& smaller subsets

of one

*****

Day 06 Factoid — Is book collecting is an obsession?

Jeanette Winterson wrote “Book collecting is an obsession, an occupation, a disease, an addiction, a fascination, an absurdity, a fate. It is not a hobby. Those who do it must do it.” Discuss. 

Ummm, 

what
               Jeannette
                                         said!

Day 27 — euphoria + % H2O

Today was back-the-front because the Poetic Factoid pome came first, which then gave me time to stop & think what I should write for the Big O sequence. It was an easy choice. Somewhere along the way, I started (perhaps subconsciously) pairing the two thematically or otherwise; now it’s become intentional.

*****

euphoria


it should ache / hurt more / than it does / this wrenching / these many hands / hot hands / wet slippery hands / angry hands / clawing / scratching / screeching / hooting / as they pull me / a / part / like a cloud / i can / only / feel one thing / the buzz / of a billion bees / as my soul / is systemically / set free / as the notes i was / float high / & begin / piece/meal / the long journey / back down below / down / that cold clay / path / i know backwards / but have not / trod / in many years / at last / now / a home / coming / a / re/union / with / she / who was lost / to me / twice before / but soon / no more

*****

Day 27 — TIL a bit about biology

% H2O

i’ve long known
the human body 
is largely water
(60% on average)
however TIL 
the percentage
changes slightly 
with age, sex, & hydration 
ranging from 45 to 75%

i’d like to posit it
also varies depending
on the time of night
because at 3am
doonasnuggled 
nearing zero
outside then i feel 
close to 98-99% aqua
before the suddenly 
urgent dunnydash 
— yet strangely 
only about 12 or 13%
upon my safe if 
shivering return
to 4-poster perfection 

some folks argue
sex with your true 
love is about 
as wonderful 
a sensation this 
gourd offers 
but the zen of empty
bladder after holding on
too long surely comes 
                           close 

Day 26 — stream of consciousness poem

I wrote this (well the first draft of it) dictating it into my phone as I lay in bed about 3am this morning, unable to sleep. I was just trying to record some ideas that have been roiling round in me for much of the past fortnight (possibly longer). Sure, I’ll be glad when April is over, but I gotta say it’s been hella good therapy. 

When I looked at it again around 7am, I realised it made a dreamy kind of poetic sense so instead of ripping phrases out & assembling them, I thought I’d try a different poetic technique & go with the flow. This consisted mainly of tidying up the times I had to repeat myself cos it didn’t understand what I was saying & deciphering some of the VRS’s quirkier interpretations. Adding a phrase or two here & there, but really very little.

When I read it again at 11pm in preparation to post it, I cried. (But then I always have been a bit of a sook!)

*****

dream of consciousness

we spoke with such softness and hope … of a life we might live together … we felt like everything was coming together the way it was meant … the way it should’ve done years ago … years and years ago … where all those missed opportunities finally reached fruition … like flowers being born … after long years in dry ground … waiting for the rains … of being fully awake … fully alive … at last … we discussed living together … we discussed weddings … we discussed babies … we discussed beliefs … talk of souls and eternities … re-discussed lives together … loves together … lives passed … lives present … we really did wonder if we’d known each other before … been together before … as if some web connected us through time … and space … the dark matter mattered … and for a few months it felt like everything we did … tapped into that magic stream … we appreciated everything … it was all wondrous and wonder full … the connection … the constant need to be in contact … the thousands and thousands of text messages … over 7000 last time you counted … sure about 6500 were from me to you … but still … along with hundreds of photos and videos … little snippets of where we were … what we were doing … random thoughts … random things … tiny silly things … things that made us smile … made us happy … things we thought we’d do together one-day … road trips that we go on … places we’d visit … things we’d write … plays we’d be remembered for … play time 

the hardest thing is … you took away the fear in my heart … filled it with joy and laughter and hope … and now going back to what it was … is worse than it never filling in the first place … but I think I get it … seems now you only were ever half-present half-engaged half-involved half-accepting half-believing half-wanting … half of where I was … I know that’s a lot of halves

you say you don’t believe in fairytales … that life isn’t a fairytale … but it could’ve been … and more … could’ve been better than that … we had all the ingredients … we had the potential the promise the prospect … the energy of fire … the connection (again with that word) … the buzz … the celestial bees buzzed right through us … through me anyhow … when I’m brave enough … to look back through some of the photos … or god forbid … read some of the messages … we sent to each other … I still can’t understand why … why you didn’t want this

why … you didn’t at least want to try