Tag: notebook

Mutant poetry

Ever since I read Mutants, I’ve been mulling over the idea of writing a group of poems around the idea of mutants and mutation.

The human (and indeed animal) stories – poor old Charles Byrne, freak-shows, the Elephant Man, court dwarves, superheroes and so on – are interesting source material; the science is somewhat interesting and provides extra source material by its connection to natural selection, ontogeny, Chernobyl, teratogens; the general idea of mutation has all sorts of metaphorical possibilties; and the word is attention-grabbing.

One possibility would be a set of ‘mutant sonnets’. The baseline of an established form would allow the formal mutation of the poems to be made apparent. Alternatively, the language could be ‘mutated’ in other ways. And the theme doesn’t have to extend to formal/linguistic considerations at all.

Something to consider. Perhaps a trip to the Hunterian is in order.

Tags Hunterian Museum, museums and galleries, mutants, notebook, poetry

silences at-a-glance

Post author By Harry
Post date 14 July 2005

The phrase ‘Silences at-a-glance’ was used by the BBC to link to this page. It’s practically a poem in itself. Or perhaps a title for a poem or sequence of poems.

Tags notebook

the chirping of sparrows

Post author By Harry
Post date 14 June 2005

The chirping of sparrows is a key human noise, a key human experience.

the essential noise of humanity (humanness)

most human of noises

the sparrow is the human soul. (id?)

throwing croissant crumbs/bits of chip/whatever to the sparrows. Chirping among the roof-tiles. dust-bathing.

I’ve been very conscious of sparrows since they disappeared from this part of London a few years ago. There were lots at the hotel in Egypt – the noise is so cheerful, and so deep-down familiar. People think of ‘chirping’ as a generic bird-noise, but actually it’s not, it’s very specific to sparrows.

Sparrows are only found in association with people – their original habitat is unknown.

From a US website: “Perhaps the most citified of birds, this import’s incessant chattering, quarrelsome disposition, and abundance about human habitations distinguish it from our native sparrows. Actually, it is not a sparrow at all, but a weaver finch.” Surely it would be more true to say that American sparrows are not sparrows at all.

Catullus. Some haiku? Who killed cock robin.

There’s a poem in there somewhere.

Tags notebook

possible poem for tomorrow

Post author By Harry
Post date 27 April 2005

in case I forget

I cut a slice through my fingernail a few days (a week?) ago, while cooking. It’s nearly grown out. I read once that the moon retreats from the earth at about the same speed our fingernails grow. I can see that growth happening. I feel there’s a poem in it somewhere.