Day 02 – lessons from Constellations

My housemate & I saw the play Constellations tonight. It was his choice because as the program states: Payne’s script presents a series of vignettes centring on two characters across various parallel universes — the same setting & conversation, but different outcomes each time. This unconventional love story set in the quantum multiverse has us asking: What if there are infinite versions of you & I? And what if there are multiple universes pulling our lives in a myriad of different directions? — & he has been toying with similar themes in a play he said he wants to call the final last night of our lives. (I think it’s a great title & might even pinch it if he doesn’t produce something soon. Fair warning given!)

Tonight’s play was interesting without being awe-inspiring. But given it explored themes of love in occasionally unusual ways, there was some useful material that had me both thinking during the play & on the drive home. With that in mind here’s a pome-in-progress; structural inspired by the play — ie, in vignette form & using rhythm, repetition & some images from the play.

lessons from Constellations
(vignettes about love)

i.
love is knife edge sharp
love is knife edge hard
love is a knife
i am knifed
Et tu

ii.
the dangerous act
of loving someone
leaves you alone
with your fragility

iib.
perhaps even frail, guilty
for there is always
one other who comes
between us & our egos

iii.
we remain perpetually
lost among the great
mechanical quantumness
of love forevers

we blithely step through
those ever sliding doors
some into happy afters
some into miseries unending
some into sunlight
some into death
supernova bright

we still try

iv.
night ships
titanic dinghies
missing their chance
thieving time
as they crash
into everything
but the ice

v.
always peeking
doors of death
despite the possible multiplicities
& symmetry of circles

there is no formula for love
all we have are
our imperfect hearts
& fireflies brief lives

Bonus poem to wish you all a Happy 2022

girl of stars

after talking the new
year in in two time zones
you belatedly go to your bed
while i drive to the lookout
cool breezed after the hateful
heat of the old year’s anger
lie on the oversized table
hewn from local eucalypt
& stare up up ever up

so many stars in the blistering
sky they cram the eye
allow myself to float away
delighting in a dozen minor
shooting streaks & two tears
of light so bright they leave scars
the tingling thrill they fibrillate
almost equal to the glowsong
my soul sings every time i hear
your voice that raucous chuckle
that wicked sassy firecracker wit
that tender admission of love

Day 30 — the second, & worst, species of phoenix

I’ve been considering this idea for the final poem of the month almost since the first day (I’d love to say Day 1, but it wasn’t, so, truth). I’ve had nothing more than the title (phoenix, you see how well that turned out) & the basic vibe of the thing. I also knew I want it to be a bit less literal/sledgehammery than some of stat/fact based pomes have been (usually stat based pomes are that way because I haven’t had enough time to find a way to “hide the facts”/tell the story in a poetical way.)

That said, I knew I wanted it to be a positive hopeful type message after a month of almost unrelenting desperation. Sadly I could not muster that outcome. Poems often take on lives of their own once you give them the initial kickstart & this little brumby definitely roared off towards a far different horizon than the one intended. Almost everything about this was unexpected …

*****

the second, & worst, species of phoenix

so the myth goes there are three
species of Phoenix
two of them
do not really concern us

Phoinix immortalis
resides in the temple of every sun
predominately goldenfire
shines with a star’s brightness
shatters darkness cos it can
& when she dies the universe folds
completely in upon itself & is re-banged

Phoinix communis
equal parts red & gold
rosecoloured wing feathers
tufts of iridescence
spot fires of sunshine
lives 500 years & dies ablazing
yet born from the same ashes
just days later

but Phoinix conflagrare
is to be feared — feathers so red
they are as living flame
neck a gleam of gold
golden crest crowns its head
lavaflow with each movement
lives 10,000 years — but beware
when he burns, he burns the world
consumes it almost entirely

the earth recovers, for that is her way
but we humans, will no longer be around
to witness to meddle nor to play god

Day 19 – absences (& returns)

The third of three pomes all exploring absence in different ways. While not completely successful, it is the most successful of the three.

*****

absence iii

every so often your absence
is more noticeable, like today

the removed from the rainbow
…a heart only air
the that is all hole
…a night without any stars
the bullet the glass
…a spine with every missing
the who cannot blow fire
…a fish without

BONUS POEM: April 19, 2018

It can speak for itself.

*****

Homecoming

swan wings : the saw of the air : the piece : oftentimes : of return : the peace : the safety of a new place : where no one : any one : has their way : but every one : will prosper : coming through the lock : reflection ripples : relentless birdsong : playing dogs : oars up & back : leaping into the unknown river : willowy light : birthplaces : spires into memory : across time : making a mark : that lasts

Day 04 – time travel (& road rules)

Several poems started, then a last minute contender rushed in demanding to be completed with 37 minutes till midnight to go. Such is the joy of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo.

Further complications were added when my wireless keyboard batteries went flat & I had to see if any of my dozen or so randomly distributed rechargeable batteries had enough charge to fire this badboy back up. 49 combinations later, little green light was go.

*****

the speed of light

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:
for the foreseeable future my favourite
star is going to be 12 Ophiuchi
a main-sequence orange-red dwarf
BY Draconis-type variable star
in the east central corner
of Ophiuchus the Serpent Bearer

at around 83 percent of Sol’s mass
85 to 100 percent of its diameter
& being similarly as enriched
in elements heavier than hydrogen
as our sun it is a semi-sort kind of a twin
i guess, i don’t really know much
about the astrophysiwhatsit specs
the reason i’m interested in
this faint little blip of light
in a relatively unknown
constellation is simple

it is 31.89 light-years away

which means the light my eye
is trampolining onto the back
of my retina & zipping off up
the optic nerve to my visual cortex
left the star 31.89 years ago
which according to my (admittedly
roughly hewn calculations)

… is about 3 days before we first met

BONUS POEM: April 4, 2018

*****

Crash Course
(A Poetic Interpretation of the 12 Rules of Driving on Italian Roads)

1.
i’m just kidding of course
there’s no such list

Day 03 – valleys (& hobbitholes)

Reading a Carl Sagan book earlier, where he describes a perfect day from his childhood at a World Fair & got to wondering, what might a perfect day from my childhood be?

*****

a long ago perfect day

a sunday, naturally
they’re always sundays

autumn morning
cool but not too cold
not unlike today

overprotective mist
hugging the edges
of our tiny valley

book snug under covers
wasn’t a doona then
but in this memory
i’m stitching it so

hurried lunch
sardines on toast
tomato sauce
can’t be away too long
from the otherworld

back into bed
till tea

tinned tomato soup
heated in aluminium
saucepan on the stove
thinned with milk

fire in the potbelly
wood i probably chopped

not much mattered
beyond the old stone walls
indeed other than grandparents’ homes
i barely knew anything
greater than a dozen miles distant

except the stars of course
always the stars

BONUS POEM: April 3, 2018

Visited a place I’ve wanted to experience, since reading about it nearly a decade ago. It was as wonderful as anticipated, even if I was disappointed to discover they now have their own iPhone app. The world changes even when we wish it wouldn’t…

*****

Civitie de Bagnoregio

to live upon
a mountain top
alone
like many monk
incarnations before

a town of hobbit
holes on a hill
instead of in
if all mine i’d fill
every home
with books

if only

i were unaware
of the signs
of
land
slipping
away

Day 26 – poem about not asking your mother for ideas

Late at night, and no poem written, I foolhardily ask my mother for a noun, verb & adjective. The resulting cat, spinning & fluffy do little to inspire. Immediately I regretted asking. My first off-the-cuff effort took only 10 seconds.

the fluffy cat
did not sit
on the mat
instead spent
her time
spinning

After 45 minutes of trying other things, I had nothing so quickly whipped up… It could get better next draft. (Couldn’t it?)

fluffy spinning cat

i knew the cat was not
from the same universe
as me almost as soon
as she showed up
on my mat

now i’m not normally
a cat fan but this one
was so fluffy i nearly
forgave it its
felinity

which is, of course,
the very worst thing
you can do to any cat
intergalactic
or not

she slowly smiled until
she disappeared
teeth last, popped back
climbed with all claws
up my thigh

dematerialised with a ping
returned sitting on
the window sill, squeaked
in a high pitched voice
& sent me to asleep

as i start to drift off
the stars start spinning
she pulls out a red balloon
& floats away up
into the sky

& curls up for a catnap
in the crescent moon

Day 21 – poem about the dark

Visits to my parents’ farm during New Moons have always been mystical. I like walking over land I cannot quite see. Beautiful blackness in all directions. Only the frail light of starlight millions of years old to guide my way (hell, that’s good, why isn’t that in the pome? haha).

I’m not satisfied with the last lines, but as I only started this an hour or so ago, I’m running out of time & will just have to let it stay as is for now.

source

i believe very little
but i truly believe
every human soul
should experience
true country dark
every 100 days, minimum

somewhere far from
a light polluted city
when the moon is in
recovery mode, & the earth
reflects back the black
birth of the universe

only alone in the vast absence
& endlessly reverberating silence
we find how much dark matters

Day 20 – All the Games, All at Once

Today was Day 3 of my Poet’s Residence (yep, already 3/4 of the way through it) & it was a wonderful day. When I arrived there was already someone waiting to start (Christine), and within a minute Kim arrived (I had spoken to him last week & he came back to participate this week). Within an hour, both had written quite lovely poems. Kim said he will post his on his blog. I hope he does & if so, I will link to it.

Neither Christine or Kim could stay for the whole session, but overall I had five people in today, including my friend & fellow poet Sarah Radford, who whipped off a wonderful poem based on the Last Line (Gone) of one of the books Kim chose (“bleed like me” was the line.) Kim also wrote a great poem using that prompt. My “bleed like me” poem, however, needs further work before I’ll share it.

The day ended with another new arrival, Rohan – who created in under an hour, a very sparse, elegant landscape poem which he also promised to put on his blog.

I also wrote a poem I was extreeeeeeeeeemmmmllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyy pleased with (tentatively called lift, the title’s the main thing that needs tweaking). I’m not sharing that one day here, but will read it next week during the performance phase of my final day.

But here’s the one I will share. It was made by combining the games Judging a Book By Its Cover, Last Line (Gone) & even, First Line to End It.

game of thorns

to live a life — where you are happy — more often — than you are not — where the jagged thorns — don’t puncture skin — too often — where your world is framed — by bramble — hidden away — in a castle — long ago abandoned — by disney — where the darkness — reflects — where stars salt the sky — where the cold — is sharper than sleep — where the zig zag path — always leads — to the crescent moon — & where — ‘once upon a time’ — actually meant something

Games played with the cover, first line & last line of Spinning Thorns by Anna Sheehan (reworking of the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale). Last line: “And that really is all anyone can hope for” & first line: “once upon a time”.

Day 19 – Photocopy of a photocopy of Dante

Another day of Last Line (Gone). Yesterday was fun & easy. Rules: use last line of book as first line of poem, then once complete, remove it [Optional extra: let book’s title influence the mood of the poem]. Again, stream-of-conscious, fast, fun & very little editing.

After tonight’s excellent Lee Marvin Reading, fellow poet & friend Thom Sullivan & I, sat on some public furniture & chatted about the poeting caboodle. He mentioned (again) Australian poet, John Kinsella as someone whose (best) work interests him. He’s suggested I should read him several times now, oops … & every time I’ve promised myself that when I get home, I’d remember to take out my only book of Kinsella’s (Divine Comedy: Journeys through a regional geography) & check it out.

Tonight, at last, I remembered. (Well, to take it out. In reality, I only “checked out” the last couple of pages.) Today’s last line is taken from that collection.

semidivine comedy

we hoped we would — instead — we rushed apart — like breaking glass — like the coffee cup — tipping over your phone — notebook — collection of poetry you were carrying — it’s been that kind of day — road blocks — crime scene tape — bureaucratic pedantry — bureaucratic banality — bureaucratic pettiness — always had trouble spelling bureaucracy — even after spellcheck figured out — what i was trying to type — still get it wrong — the word as irritating — as the construct — it represents — a day spent rushing — trying to catch up to itself — sort itself out — wondering where you went — whether you’d be back — another heart — left behind — another story — incomplete — a homeless guy — with a worse tale — doesn’t even know a joke — but can rail — against the system — give him money — realise — life can be a starlit canto — if you let it

LAST LINE: grow inseparable.

gareth roi poet boi

gareth roi's playful poetry place

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Tag Archives: stars

Day 02 – lessons from Constellations

Bonus poem to wish you all a Happy 2022

Day 30 — the second, & worst, species of phoenix

Day 19 – absences (& returns)

Day 04 – time travel (& road rules)

Day 03 – valleys (& hobbitholes)

Day 26 – poem about not asking your mother for ideas

Day 21 – poem about the dark

Day 20 – All the Games, All at Once

Day 19 – Photocopy of a photocopy of Dante

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