I like long walks in the morning, usually heading around 9:30 – walk for about an hour at least. I have several directions I go in with some small variations day to day – some days north and west, others north & east, other south and either east or west. All the pictures I post are taken on these walks. Funny how, one day, for the first time in months, I’ll see a door against a telephone pole and then the following weeks I see cast off doors every where.
Most days I listen to podcasts – the three I’ve stuck to are: The Round Table, Disinfo, and Writing Excuses. All three have extensive archives on iTunes. The hosts are enthusiastic, informed and fun. Whether hunting for literary gold, figuring how to write yourself out of (or into) a corner or digging for truth in the USA these podcasts are ideal & inspiring.
I also think when walking – sometimes things like ‘I’d do him,’ or ‘Ditch the bitch, I’m the one you need.’ Often: ‘Why stop with your pram at the narrowest point, between the patio and planter, to have a conversation with your pram pushing pals?’ Or working out what to say about a spoken-word show or a poem or short story in my head. Current story idea that came to me on a walk is someone time travel technology to prove Shakespeare didn’t write his plays.
Someone asked me why I don’t feature that often and my reply was why don’t you ask the hosts why they don’t ask me more often.
this piece was fished out of my archive – from January 2009 –
do you think I have grounds to sue Stephen King
The Window
there was only the window
no room
only the view out
no view in
nothing to see in
nothing to see out
but the window
drew all eyes to the nothing outside
drew all eyes so none cared
that there was nothing inside to see
nothing to keep us there
only the need to look
to see
to be visually stimulated
all look
nothing to touch
nothing to see
but we kept looking
hoping something would appear
something would drift across
the endless expanse outside the window
what we needed
had to be out there
waiting longing to be seen
to be discovered
by these eager greedy eyes
that no longer could look inward
that void was pitiless endless hopeless
while the window offered a change
a respite from that
soon it would appear
the alarming glass shattering sight
would appear
our senses would be gratified
the window felt like nothing
the glass was a surface we couldn’t penetrate
it didn’t give when pressed
didn’t smear when touched
steady unblinking window
open to the world outside us
open to potential
resistant to all attempts to smash it
nothing could break
its wavering openness
the surface wouldn’t ripple shudder quiver
bombs flames indifference
nothing had an effect on it
nothing made it more or less open than it was
even worship didn’t speed
the realization of hopes
it remained open even when
we closed our eyes
when we slept it remained
dreams couldn’t penetrate to the other side
there was no room
there was just this window
between us and the world
couldn’t tell if it was glass air solidified
it cast no reflection
had no taste texture sound
all that passed through it was
light
eyes strained painful red rimmed eyes
seeking sight seeking a sign
any sign
a heron flying in a dim morning light
anything but the expanse remained
unaltered
all these years
soon something would appear soon
and we would be there faces
pressed
ready at last for the first sight of something
outside of ourselves
TOpoet 