Tag Archives: process

The Long Dark

The Long Dark* At night, on the lake, The ice becomes a steel drum Rapid, thready pulse Counterpoints a wolf’s tenor Saxophone wavering near *Everything is writing fodder. The Long Dark is a survival videogame set in the northern Canadian … Continue reading

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The Moon Turns Over and Over—As a Song

Michael Leon occasionally puts to music my attempts at writing songlike things, as he’s done with this piece I wrote last fall (lyrics here). The simple (but perhaps overly busy) video portion must be blamed solely on me as I … Continue reading

Posted in Art is theft, Astronomy, Astrophysics, Collaboration, Cosmology, Country music, Country song, Emma Tibaldo, Gravity, Hank Williams, John MacKenzie, Memory, Michael Leon, Music, Poetry, Process, Science, Space, The Moon, The Sky, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Serendipitous Collaboration

The image embedded lower in this post came to me courtesy of Matt Trussell, who lives beside a bog somewhere in Maine. I don’t know much more about him other than that he is quite pleasant in communication, likes baseball, … Continue reading

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The Full Moon Tonight

Last night on Facebook, an old friend posted a photo of the moon seen through cherry blossoms. Cherry blossoms demand haiku. The Full Moon Tonight for Sue Hughson The full moon tonight— just one more brief, white blossom in the cherry tree

Posted in Art is theft, Cherry blossoms, Haiku, John MacKenzie, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Spring, The Moon, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

In Paris. The Portraits

I actually took a commission yesterday to write a poem for the birthday of a friend of a friend. It was a fun and interesting exercise. I worked mostly from a list sent to me of associations and interests of … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Cliches, Commissions, Creativity, John MacKenzie, Mythology, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Summer, The Moon, The Sea, The Wind, Tide, Time, Venus | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Why

Because this and that sperm and egg happened to be reasonably compatible, and the gestation period passed without major complications, and our conditions at birth allowed each of us to continue breathing. Because of random mishaps avoided or not through … Continue reading

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An Island Mother’s Son (revision from August 2, 2013*)

When springtime winds and lilacs are entangled in their throes, and while summer elms and lindens stretch out their limbs with groans, you’ll see a man whose mother, back when he was green and slim, fastened the ropes of her desire to root … Continue reading

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Vanishing Point (Little Sands, PEI)

I was sent a fine, short, dark image the other day about stillness in Little Sands. It precipitated this poem since I have felt at the water that sort of stillness that seems both complete and empty at once. I think it … Continue reading

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Step Away from the Buddha: brief notes on reading and response, and on salvaging Haiku (and Two Haiku for April 22)

Spring is here, and, with it, a volume of Japanese Death Poems (compiled by Yoel Hoffmann) sent to me by Andrew Griffin. This book sat on my shelf for a few weeks as I gradually overcame my distaste for the … Continue reading

Posted in Andrew Griffin, Art is lies, Art is theft, Chinese poetry, Japanese Poetry, John MacKenzie, Magnolias, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetics, Poetry, Process, Spring, The Wind | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

A Late Winter Gull Pantoum (Revision, 7th draft)

The flood of light image in the previous draft of this poem that I posted was bugging the hell out of me. It did not work at all with the “sparse, hoarded light” that is much more integral to the … Continue reading

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The Wild Geese are > Me, < You

More than three months since we saw the wild geese threaded into the invisible needle of instinct pulling their long and mournful strands into divergence while calculus stitched every long wing and wingbeat precisely into place in the turbulent slipstream … Continue reading

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November (poems from old notebooks, 2002)

I’m beginning to wonder if I have an infinite number of poems buried in old notebooks. Which would be handy, as I can feel a haze of writing laziness forming around me. November A background rain of static, a radio … Continue reading

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The Bloom is not the Flower (Trailside Cafe Video #2)

The Bloom is not the Flower This one’s short, just over a minute. Probably should’ve posted it first, as it ended my first set while yesterday’s poem ended my second set. The text appears in Letters I Didn’t Write. Also, … Continue reading

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Yesterday’s Poem (notes on process)

I’ll get to yesterday’s poem, as promised, eventually. But first, some generalities. For me, these days, writing poems is a cold-blooded endeavour. I don’t wait for or depend upon a burn of emotion, a flash of insight, a moment of … Continue reading

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The Place of Skulls (poems from old notebooks, 1998 or ’99)

Can’t figure out exactly when I wrote this, though I can clearly recall smirking a lot while doing so. I’ve since pilfered at least one image from it to use variations of in other poems. Ghazal for Mary Magdalene is … Continue reading

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The Winter Wings of Gulls—a Sestina in Progress: Day 6, Stanzas 1-7

And that’s that. Fought the sestina to a draw, all 7 stanzas done. Looking at it, I think I may see a way to make it a better poem by rearranging the order of some stanzas. Be perfectly happy to … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Astrophysics, Autumn, Biology, Chemistry, Consciousness, Cosmology, Creativity, Death, Epistemology, Evolution, Gravity, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Language, Memory, Neuroscience, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Science, Sestina, Social Commentary, Space, The Brain, The Sea, The Wind, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Winter Wings of Gulls—a Sestina in Progress: Day 2, Stanzas 1-2

Previous version of the first stanza here. Lines keep being revised as I go. The title will probably end up changing too. The Winter Wings of Gulls When their wings of winter begin to drift, pile up, turn the sky … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Consciousness, Creativity, Epistemology, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Language, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Serial, The Brain, The Sea, The Wind, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Winter Wings of Gulls—a Sestina in Progress: Day 1, Stanza 1

So instead of spending a week digging up old poems to put up every day while I work on this damn sestina, I’ve decided to post it as a serial, adding a stanza a day. This serves two purposes: keeps … Continue reading

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The Autumn Shift of Wind (with process note)

This poem started last night at work with this line, “the geese scrawl their lazy vees,” which became these lines, “in the sky already / the geese are dark, hurried scrawls,” and then spread both above and below them into … Continue reading

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My Brother’s Deaths (poems from old notebooks, sometime in 1986)

This is the first successful poem I wrote, and it was an island in a sea of crap. It was a long time—at least two years—before I managed to write another piece that I would now consider worth calling a … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Cemetery, Creativity, Death, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Memory, Poem tweets, Poems from old notebooks, Poetics, Poetry, Process, Summer, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment