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Snapshots
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A Queen in Green Patina LOOKING AT THIS SCAR REMINDS ME ... (after Edwin Morgan's Arnheim) Having no memory, I collect postcards / and such to remind me of holidays. I'm looking at one now: From hell, the souvenirs are stones. Robin Hamilton L'bro // 53 minutes into Wednesday SNAPSHOT 42 time that time missed it again! hmppphh! again? C'MON! ... was else where submerge ... d in some one else's dead books of some kind of yore (a word?) with tears and all someone dead gone (to do, or not (possibly), with me) ... a-hem ... 01:20 am february 11 2004 árni ibsen stekkjarkinn 19 hafnarfjördur iceland Weekend Snaps: Two Melbourne Public Gardens The Williamstown Botanic Gardens have many gates which are never closed; the tree-hungry eye registers here more symmetry than variety, a frock-coated municipal statue, an aviary without labels much dark wire and a few birds, unrecognisable; an ornamental lake all stone and concrete, without water: 'under renovation'; cylinders of clean perspex embrace the trunks of most trees, deterrent to possums no doubt; almost nothing labelled, except the Liquid Amber Lawn where I recognize no liquidambar. Our home suburb has a Native Garden, high-fenced, everything labelled, free-ranging birds and possums, promiscuous sprinklers, and most days it closes at four. - Max Richards, North Balwyn, Melbourne 3.00pm Wed 11 Feb 04 here now sitting here looking out from a rather gloomy small study packed with books over there south a few yards of reference books then up to ceiling double packed much recorded videos west area swamped by sixteenyards? poetry books poet authors above anthologies audio cassettes by the hundred music -'spoken word' buried in a rather battered sideboard in old office files then the north wall working face a cliff of actual writing files hardcopies -drafts-paper and odds some looking lost then back west -window still gloomy out there computer- printer -radio 'warmer -no rain' forecast hedge and Edwardian street newly much hewn tree now giving more light better do my snapshot sift incoming emails from flashy gaudy spam Oz promiscuous sprinklers gosh Iceland already dancing across page cat has chewed dragon plant again apparently not poisonous right then right but maybe a coffee first. pmcmanus raynes park london 09:00 nearly valentine's day RESNAIS' PROVIDENCE Running away from an army patrol en bete. Seem vulgar and must not. Not overawed by the universe. A sweat of guilt - it has its poetic side; clomping there amongst springing Claude on them. Point about him. The attraction randy when he had a hangover. One thinks violent. It isn't the point. Dress not the humble exterior evidence to the contrary. Needn't tell you that neither. Compensatory bibles excessive, don't you think? Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD US / 2-6, 2-9, 2-11-04 (6:12 AM) 
Some time off to watch _The Last Picture Show_ by Peter Bogdanovich b/w; 121'; '71; outside the sun inflates volumes to a new plastic intensity brilliant pastel colors let a park speak of a September Parisian corner, seen somewhere before - maybe the given remembrance of a dear one, on Wednesdays it's mild, the big fir tree a forceful alga moving in the air in the early afternoon traffic is kind, the town an oasis among mountains with its palms, we pass through dark & bright shapes, on the balcony in front a gemmed plant: hope widens my lungs in a deep breath work to mark, coffee-cigarette, pens, I will be shut here inside for hours from now. Anny Ballardini, February 11, '04, Bozen what do you mean? poetry? why yesterday I listened to a respected older poet read slow monologues not dramatic enough short stories pretending to be poems & lecturing between on balance 'narrative' see/ sawing 'music' somehow unaware the latter wasn't there then in the evening carried away by youth their first readings such love of words such finesse as i look back to welcome them they walk right by gently smiling Douglas Barbour Edmonton Canada 08: 50 Wednesday February 11 03 It takes the whole day; an oh so slow opening up, green shoots loosening yellow stays, narrow stems bending beneath the weight of corona. Drawn towards light, forced choice between rain-lashed spattered glass and a source closer to home. They turn, opening full lips to lamp light. Nessa O'Mahony Beaumaris, Anglesey, North Wales, 11 February 2004 the bells of the church ring for cold I put on my best face taking the world in shifts West Irondequoit, New York, United States 2.11.04, noon Jerry Schwartz Harp Seal Bark No poem, nothing will come, only our dog this week encountering a harp seal pup, beached, surely afraid, and the dog tries to get it to play, the harp seal barks too. A failure to communicate even though they speak something like the same language? Ken Wolman SANDBURG'S ALLEGED CAT Damned if the little beast didn't walk on little cat feet. What do you expect from a feline? Silence: questionable. Exile: only if Carl by mistake left the cat outside overnight. Cunning? Absolutely. That's what they're for. Maybe Carl had his cat declawed so you'd never hear him coming. Some people like surprises along the line of IRS audits, unexpected transmission jobs, or a dose ("Jesus, she said it was okay!"). So perhaps, being of milder nature, Carl liked the cat to spring up on him from behind, never hear it coming. Fog at the Jersey Shore rolls silently onto the peninsula. The dog, frightened, will not walk in it. The cats live indoors. Little cat feet in your dreams and mine-- they clatter and slide over the floors at 2 AM, running side by side, less the silence of Jersey fog than Turnpike traffic and the Ben Hur chariot race. Ken Wolman/2-11-04 (backdated like a bad check) Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring. Every Wednesday, Poetryetc members were invited to post short poems on any subject or in any form they chose. The idea was to make a poetic collage of instamatic “snaps” of that day that reflected the international membership of the list. The project has generated an astounding number of poems. The first two runs, of six weeks each, and the first ten weeks of the third run, are archived at Wild Honey Press www.wildhoneypress.com under Poetryetc Project. The rest - amounting in all to a run of a year - are archived here. Poetryetc, like its affiliate Salt Publishing (http://www.saltpublishing.com), was founded by Australian poet John Kinsella. Salt is managed by Christopher Hamilton-Emery (cemery@saltpublishing.com), while Poetryetc is owned by Alison Croggon (ajcroggon@bigpond.com). Poetryetc is now archived at http://www.jiscmail.ac.uk/lists/poetryetc.html. and anyone interested can join from that url. To contact the listowner: Alison Croggon These pages are designed, maintained, and hosted by Rebecca Seiferle, the Editor of The Drunken Boat. To email. 
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