17 August 2016

#awakeaugust 17

acid panic
there is a small bag I need to pack for my flight tomorrow
I saw it, four or five days ago when busy tidying, organising after my new office and hallway were completed
roiling frustration

I need to calm down and then it will be found, some time today
I sit in front of the white wall and type, soothed by clickety clicking

Awake August facebook page here

16 August 2016

#awakeaugust 16

satiated but guilty
the stretched ache of my stomach around
chicken saag and mushroom pullao

Awake August facebook page here

15 August 2016

#awakeaugust 15

A man in a white hard hat has crawled to the apex of a roof, and peered over to the guttering below. The seagull on the adjoining roof continues to perch, watchfully.

Awake August facebook page here

Gostegodd 003

For Prediction Fiction here
This weeks words: bramble, drift, sally

Rioja tore herself away from watching the disembarkation, realising she was late for duty, too late even to clean herself up, or tidy her bramble-wild hair. 
The tall stranger, some sort of authority figure, was not the only traveller waiting for the shuttle, twelve others were there, some of them mirror faced, others in suit-cloaks. The Knave was scheduled to drift for six standard orbits before the shuttle would return, and her cleaning of guest pods had to be completed. 
It started so inauspiciously, this first sally of the war, yet to be named by commentators.

14 August 2016

#awakeaugust 14

A morning of noticing triangles and stripes/lines:
painted white metal at the edge of the staircase, reflected in glass as a sawtooth ribbon
the shape of the flags flying above the police station, the somnolent breeze tries to push out the stripes of the transgender and rainbow flags, but then they fold over, leaving  a triangle with a tail
shadows of new bright white shelves on a white wall and the pencils with their triangular shaft waiting for meon the desk
 cheese wedges sliced  for lunch

Awake August facebook page here 

13 August 2016

#awakeaugust 13

An evening walk, breeze dropped but air crisp and alert,
Mermaid Quay is no home to sylphs or sirens, but hen parties and people who cannot decide if they want to eat pizza or not,
The funfair and beach are here to visit, but the more regular buildings remain brooding behind them, the dropping sun turning the copper leafed building to yes, gold, no other word for it, and the brag of "In these stones horizons sing" may well be true

Awake August facebook page here

12 August 2016

#awakeaugust 12

after DIY, a soothing shower, an inventory
chipped nail varnish, tick, chipped nails, yes, also expected
an aching back, unfamiliar twisting and holding and straining
a scuffed finger joint, wine coloured scabs
a pale pink patch on my ankle, surrounded by grey blue bruising, a dropped shelf
warm water running with it's fingers on my neck

Awake August 2016 facebook page here

11 August 2016

#awakeaugust 11

Painting walls white
and buying colour pencils in the supermarket
building ideas from a blank canvas

Awake August facebook page here

10 August 2016

erasure experiments continued

I've continued experimenting with the zentangle / erasure poetry project, beyond just creating the "output image". Because I like to "see the journey", I hit on the idea of a triptych, showing the original page, the found poem, and the found poem output image. So you get three shots at the same words, in different arrangements. And on paper, I can start to add further lines and words (to really make this feel like a Tom Phillips rip-off!).
Well, it feels like a long project, and I am enjoying myself, anyway :)

#awakeaugust 10

A shades of grey day, driving back from shopping.
Between the two dulled pewter carriageways of the elevated road, the lampposts are "T" shaped, sparse trees in a stolid steel.
Gulls perch on the branches, six or seven outlines per lamppost; their flint-shadow-faded cotton hues lost to the clouds and only a yellowed beak turning to remind me of colour in the world.

Awake August Facebook page here

09 August 2016

#awakeaugust 09

The flour dusting on the top of the soft white bread rolls took me back to Yellowcraig campsite.
My memories of these childhood holidays are all outside, outside the shop waiting for the bakery delivery in the morning. The seemingly long walk to the beach, both sandy and rocky, and with Fidra on the horizon. Off to the right, a pine wood with trees to climb in. The ruined castle at Dirleton, stones gritty and hot and irresistibly climable. Chip shop chips on the long rocky spit at North Berwick, by the open air pool.
A whole wealth of memories from something so simple as a bread roll.

Awake August facebook page here

08 August 2016

The jealousy of Scorpio

For Prediction Fiction here
This weeks words: packet, shore, zodiac

He just had to be an Taurus, one of the zodiacs “don’t mind me, I’m just here to break some hearts” squad. 
Oh, he was a heartbreaker anyhow, those downturned lashes hiding eyes that were packets of mischievous midnight. Only one eye narrowed with his lop-sided smile. I’d worn my new dress, all demure watercolour flowers, he could see me blushing down to my ribs.

He tempted away any innocence I had, along with my reasoning. A small part of me wondered how he could explain away the score marks from my nails.

He belonged to my sister.

#awakeaugust 08

A trolley full of white, posts and shelves and brackets.
Two home projects squeezed into the car, only possible when dry
  (things poke out of the windows and roof)
Back to daily pottering, my back reminds me of the chores ahead

Awake August 2016 facebook page here

erasure experiment 005

Eyenhallow, uninhabited island
Summer afternoon, carpeted with a congregation of selkie

Hoy, sound of singing,
plangent musical

Stromness mornings, water town, 
pleasant rooftop sitting with paper, pen, 
working magic

Scapa Flow, childhood
An hour reading early lives

07 August 2016

erasure experiment 004

I've found a simple way to blot out the unwanted words, but worry that things might end up looking a bit same-y if I use that method all the time, so will definitely keep experimenting with other ideas as they occur to me...

Wide awake
Afternoon disaster,
writing monosyllabic, tapering hands
Stromness afternoon
witty, vivacious, he showed us a Queen of our attention
Enthralled islands, different world unreal in that morning
Sentences that pleased come back,
walk and belong here in Orkney
On Papa Westray
overlooking the sea,
the seventy islanders dance

#awakeaugust 07

Waking in buttered light, glass balustrades full of unexpected reflections. anticipating the day, walking into town to pick up an order, maybe vegetables too. The breeze clatters the blinds downstairs, and the fresh acer leaves are raving to a music unheard. I will wear my red dress and red shoes, and feel fey and fresh today.
I will get up and shower, in a minute...

Awake August 2016 facebook page here

06 August 2016

erasure experiment 003

Experimenting with different ways to make the chosen words stand out, here overwriting the unwanted words with "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog". It's a way of adding something rather than subtracting something. Would maybe work better if a) more relevant words were chosen, and b) the words were added by hand. Started me thinking about printing out the pages and adding more to them...

A part after years
a poet in an age roots, drawing boundaries
Travel, time, islands and generations
Travel and depth,
the road stands by a gallows
“Martyrs,” she explained, as real as the past
Let me travel north to the islands
bright spilling over with light

#awakeaugust 06

Drifting slowly down, gently rocking end to end, a white feather falls out of the sky. It docks softly in the tree opposite, unruffled leaves spattered with shadows.

05 August 2016

#awakeaugust 05

A typists flurry over the glass bottles
A poets sigh over their names
Choices, choices
Stardust to match the toes?
the palest moon-gleam which sparkles to life under sunlight, or
Henley Regatta, The Old Bill, Shag, Pimms;
the charcoal glitter of Gobsmacked or the oily ashes of Chimney Sweep?
Or shall I be a pale candy pink Teddy Girl today?
Choices, choices...

Awake August 2016 facebook page here

erasure experiment 002

This, this is better, I am more satisfied with this image. The shapes of the words and the picture and texture feel more meant; and the words also seemed to flow better. Including a potential title for the whole work (if I go that far)

Lovers splurged sea salt
A poet passionately present
Aware of his name, I overheard the perfect death
Agreed to be exactly right, a dignified moment
Newly awakened, and deepened
Himself born to Orkney

04 August 2016

#awakeaugust 04

imperfect tanglings, tousled
fallen fuschias on wet decking or
floppy curls, pale faced boys with discordant guitars

Awake August 2016 facebook page here 

erasure experiment - 001

My first draft of "erasure art" - inspired by Adam Byatt's post here; and further musings on Tom Phillips "A Humument"
Far from finished, all I have done for this piece is take a page from Maggie Fergussons "George Mackay Brown; The Life" and one of my own pictures of Hoy Sound from outside of Stromness, and erased. So simple, but I feel I haven't added anything so at the moment it's remaining as an experiment.

Beguiling once young, he met the present
Doors led to roses the size of an archive
Spines like ghosts
Past poetry dazzled

03 August 2016

#awakeaugust 03

after the rain, it is a good day for washing
the sun on skin, bed warmth
and the breeze the grip of the lover, flying to his daytime life

Awake August 2016 facebook page here


In the beginning, of course, there was only myself, the divine Iramanu. Full of divine will. Full of creative bursts; like eating too many beans, I farted out the universes in a shower of lightning dusts.
Matter coalesced and burst apart again, I tried to count the stars on my heavenly abacus, but it became boring after a few aeons, so I animated some matter and gave it names.

Well, next thing I knew, they’d multiplied, the damn child-things were running around in the voids and pushing galaxies at each other in play. I separated them out, pulled up the shutters around each universe and left them in solitary.

Hmm, they’d learnt from me, those godlings of mine, and started animating matter of their own, tiny things, placed on specks, worlds orbiting the stars I had gifted them. They changed their universes as was their wont. Terry decided his would be carried on the back of a turtle; Ra the All Seeing’s universe collapsed as the amount of information generated by his beings superseded the ability of any molecular system to store or manage the information. And then Shaitan’s matter-beings managed to find ways to open the universe cages I had made and punch through into others.

Things had gotten so messy, what could I do? Those kids of mine needed to be taught a lesson, and all I could think of was starting over. I needed to learn from my mistakes, try not to get bored next time around and not give into the temptation of creation. One of the worlds held wyverns, a sinuous tornado shaped creature, with a fiery spirit. I took this form and shadowed all the stars and willed the Big Crunch to start.

After, I flickered my singed tail. What next?

My first attempt at a "storycubes" prompt

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