more poems. more. and other stuff.

okay. yes. yes. stark raving mad. doing another round of 30:30 without taking a break. day 62. ask me again in a week. *rolling eyes at myself* good thing mr mccan't-stop is keeping me company. and the freaky ms ape-woman is still around, too. but it is a lot quieter than about 2 weeks ago.

now, that collaboration project i mentioned. it is kind of official now, so i can blab: alex stolis, my old (well, as in, have-known-him-for-a-while) poet friend, surprised me with an e-mail only a few days ago: he said he had started working on this project, with a chapbook in mind, a series of "letters", but that he didn't think he could pull it off on his own, and he thought of me as the "other voice". the 10 poems he sent are wonderful - definitely among the best i have seen of his. and while i was still wondering whether i could live up to expectations, whether i would be able to "deliver", i started to scribble. i already have two "letters", and a third draft is nearly done. and images and lines just keep coming. alex reckons the first couple of poems are "perfect" for what he has in mind. i am soooo thrilled! i'll keep you posted.

here is the first one i wrote:

Dear L______,

There were no stars last night. I missed their reflections
in puddles on my bathroom floor. I tiptoed among shards,
their green teeth eating into the light, like your eyes on
Tuscan mornings. And I remembered how you smoked

another cigarette that day, beside a grave that wanted
to collapse under the weight of unsaid words between us.
You did not so much exhale as spit grey, angry swabs into
the open mouth of a winter that kept robbing us of sleep.

We counted peals of heavy bells. I still know their secret.
I wonder, do you still dream of winged shapes, concertinas
squeezed until the sky finally caves in, its colour sliding to
the gutter in loose folds, dyeing the tarmac a sickly shade

of red? I slept and dreamed your voice, a dry rasp across
my palm. I woke up aching for thorns. The mirror showed
me the lonely stem of a rose, memory of petals beginning
to drift, a white wind singing to her of the sea, of salt.

J

n-apeman, one half of the itws challenge judges, has just informed me that i am one of the two october challenge winners - or rather, my poem what is the sound of one hand clapping is. i am chuffed!

a little late to the party, but happy birthday neil gaiman!

oh and ... vienna can still look like this ...



a day that starts with a headache and being totally knackered can still turn out good: my students have changed so much since the beginning - they are such a lot of fun now! also, the results of their first test made me (and them!) happy. then a colleague gave me three little chocolates during lunch break. the collaboration. the challenge win. the light/sky when i crossed the danube at 4 pm. the play we went to see tonight, with two of my former celta course colleagues in it, justin and sharron, and catching up with our celta tutor patrizia too, and a few glasses of wine ...

song of the day: i'll be your man by the elected.