under another sun

Finished my poetry manuscript this morning, and posted it off mindful of Paul Valery's comment that a poem is never finished, only abandoned.  There is some excellent work in there. I have called it The Slow Tsunami , and it is about time and memory. I am now able to think about other things... But find myself a bit brain dead after the effort. So after chatting to Sonia about Egypt and Hitler, I went for a long walk about in Brighton, pausing to lurk in a cafe with my laptop drinking an Americano and treating myself to a low fat blueberry muffin in celebration. Through the Pavilion gardens where a duo of buskers were playing saxophone and one of those large African thumb piano things. The music was heavenly, and even I was forced to chuck a pound in their hat. Then to the pier marvelling at the bright low sun in a blue and cloudless sky. My favourite merry go round was being dismantled and all the horses were stacked together. The fairground part of the pier takes on a...

A storming day of writing. Surging forward with three new poems for a collection, provisionally called The slow tsunami, which is mainly about time. I am trying to have it ready fast enough to the International poetry book and pamphlet competition the end of November. A deadline is always useful. In the afternoon I saw my iPhone had spontaneously given up the ghost. Took it to the Orange shop, and a bloke there simply pressed both its buttons at once and it restarted. Apparently iPhones do this once in a while, 'because they are like computers'. Baffling. But I walked away happy. Went to my old magic cafe, and worked more on my poems. I can't believe how hungry I am for this work. Then home. Lorraine out tonight, so I simply worked more on my poems till she returned, gave her a glass of wine and chatted. Noticed just before I went to bed that one of my angel fish died suddenly. Felt sad about this, as I've had it for four or five years.