radfrac_archive: (dichotomy)
Poetry group today was partly discussion and partly writing. I found the discussion tiring -- different expectations in the group for the time spent on analysis vs. writing -- but I did get a sonnet out of it. (We all wrote sonnets entitled Winter).

Winter

Last gold, red, gold leaf-lenses blinking
Flashing the small signals of the rain
The storm-weight drops around the house, sinking
Dead leaves into the muddy concrete drain.

Last winter, wishing desperately for snow
We peeled back layer by layer the days of rain
Scraping for the cold kernel lodged below
The murky plastic wrappers on our brains.

Last longer. Last the winter, or tonight
With supplements and therapeutic steam
Douse yourself with brute full-spectrum light
And dredge your mind up from its nine-hour dream.

Wake and know the morning by its quiet;
Lie back beneath the winter's rising stream.


(And stuff).

I cheated the couplet and made an eccentric sestet instead, and it hasn't really got a turn, just various flickerings, but I like bits of it.

Cooler than this is that me and Belfast made a spoken word track tonight -- something he's wanted to do for a while but I was too nervous to try. He sent me a couple of atmospheric musical passages he wrote, just modulations (or um whatever I don't know what music things are called) -- and I set spoken word overtop -- some overheard dialogue I'd copied out and adjusted and put through a filter. We both really liked the result, even with my crappy staticky recording. So that's a thing we do now, maybe.

Oh, Belfast. Yes, Belfast. I didn't explain about him. No. I did not. Well.

{rf}

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