If I was a better poet, I'd knock out a couple of evocative lines of rhyme about the arc as both a design feature and the way light travels through time, but I have to hitch a ride on the great metal goanna that is The Commute. For those of a performance poetry bent, check out this weekend's festival where my good friend Nathan Shepherdson is collaborating with some other wordcrafters.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Arc Poetry
Labels:
First Point,
ford,
glassed on fins,
hatchet fin,
lineup,
noosa,
single fin,
woody
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Neil, I wrote an arc poem for you. It's called...
ReplyDelete'Lines of flight'
Despite our feelings,
and our needs,
The way of things
never really flow
in one direction.
They arc
north and south,
bending and curving in on themselves.
(In)consistent,
twisting,
bent,
warped,
clean,
curved,
divine.
Time and light
have
smooth curves
and
clean lines of flight.
We mould these
curves and lines
into our lives:
aesthetic
moving.
They hold us still and shift us
through the world,
earthly and oceanic.
The way of things
never really flow
in one direction.
Rebecca, nice to hear from you. This is wonderful, evocative. Many thanks for sharing. Neil
ReplyDelete