Spring 2025-ongoing

Can I commit to creative writing ?

From Top clockwise: Erotic Ecology/Birch; Content Creator over still from glitch in Mumming is for Murder; Blood in neon yellow Posca pen over photo of my children playing with silouettes at the Museum of Illusion.

Erotic Ecology/Birch Part 1

talk ♥ think ♥♥ sound ♥ consider burn suffer bring ♥♥ kindle nourish consume please strive obsess ♥ suck search ♥ remain understand ♥ love ♥ enliven ♥♥ understand ♥ allow ♥♥ love dismiss ♥ complete ♥ understand ♥ fail experience inhabit tremble wince ♥ love enliven eroticise permeate rediscover enrapture ♥ surround slice fill run screech carve contribute gyrate characterise swirl strike suffuse heat feel roar enliven thicken transform turn crave precipitate thicken crystallise feel condense blend emerge morph lay down ♥ observe describe understand experience understand live ♥ fulfil manifest cause seek fail neglect achieve suffuse imbue strive ♥ take give share release

A list of active verbs in order of appearance from Andreas Weber’s Matter and Desire: An Erotic Ecology from excerpt Eros: What makes the World More Real from the Prelude. The hearts show where the noun love was interspersed.

Blood

On receipt of your love, I wrap it up and index it, a process of clinical examination.

Does it fit the programme? Is it poison? Do I expect respect for this thoughtful curriculum I am setting?

Thoughtful? What’s the difference? Would be nice for our seed-weed to flourish.

take stock and sample the dandelion head.

Rise, trance like in its shadow: Consolidate our findings in

the bin-backyard of our blood

Entwined.

Reported Speech

She said:

Think of yourself as a river

Shaping the landscape

That

Collects debris indescriminately

And that

Throws it together

Sometimes in poetic configurations

That

Can be violent

Theatrical

Destructive

Abundant

Dirty

That

Keeps Flowing

But is fragile

Witch

If I were to cast a spell,

one good enough to sell,

one good enough to have cured AIDS,

one aired in cinemas; one I could save,

one that could make every employee feel brave and fit to burn the mockery

around every corner, up every tree.  

A burning arrow that would quicken into the heart

and glare down

the frontlines.

Just one spell; It would cost a miracle

to disrupt and coerce, the hardware

chinking

fit to burst,

the speed with which it would have to deliver-

like a soprano

shattering

with glassy splinter.

Alterity

Beneath the sky, slowly, one step at a time. My legs raised high with each step

deceleration quickens through viscous atmospheres as

a horse prances for a gymkana

each tread crosses the other

ness

the sky flows, drips, quietens rolling. Dark, thick, liquid jellifies into

puddles at my foot, seeds stick upon it, within it, around it

float by until you find your place:

embed in.

A seedfall makes it way down the paper

descended from her higher plane

it too flickers, its energy gaining certainty as it descends over the night through the waking mother board

through to dawn, then dusk:

dampen the tread, blow out the breath.

What if the world were transparent?

What if the world were transparent? (What if I was transparent?)

We would set up an industry to cover the absurdity, make a film about opaqueness; set it in the eighteenth century.

A bullet of normalcy, murdering any trace.

The only survivor a small puddle – protecting the shallow depths beneath.

At its edge a small fisherman misplaces his bait, he rolls over and sees that his fishing

is a cheat.

And he is grown.

Little Bird – A poem using a random word generator

Sunshine slips, a yellow brick road, orange tramps,

Oranges for the homeless!

Caves used for smuggling.  Architectural memory spheres

In its infancy, a primal force.  But here it comes; Modernity

in the form of a car.  

The noise, the smell, in this tiny cave.

Throw oranges at it!  

Go!  Go nasty car that is sticky and orange.  

What is that under it? Hiding?  A little bird with a hat on.  A trilby,

no less.

Fly to freedom, but lend me your hat!  

You won’t need that; it will weigh you down!  

Go!  Disappear!

Jumping the Gap

Strange morning.  

The distant points did not correspond

directly in colour nor structure.

The elements had been spun

in a tiny hydron Collider

It left floaties:

little eye fairies jumping the gap

back and forth

 a child skipping game.

Until evening, until the dread of the evening spreads

over the city, voices drowning the drinking man’s grimace.

The lure of the calling sounds.