PrazeitPoetry

Edit Update

Am doing the promised cut part and ran into an unexpected plot problem that looks like it will be a stroke of genius, in this case Bob's--of course, I get to do all the work to make it happen. My personal estimate of getting done by the end of the month looks like it's going to be three days off but I'm happy at the progress. I did the early weaving, but now, while pulling all the loose threads taut, its grown into what it was supposed to be. Yes, yes, I'm supposed to be humble--but comparatively to myself, this is really good and I'll be very proud of the product.

Images

There's other images that come and go of friends who'd die for me--the harsh business man, the conqueror of the stars, the shy and sly schoolboy, the man with elegant fingers, the man with chains and black leather and fists. So many people do not believe in the power of imagery--but I have blue hands of fire and they come to life in mind. Three years ago the realm of the night was shaky and at risk, I provided the concrete shoes into the Earth's center so that the battle could continue. I would rather a friend live for me than die for me. Pain is a sensation the body feels alone, the mind is free of it if you cut it off. You may lose heart, or you may choose where your heart finds solace.

I may not be able to see or understand but I at least deserve an answer to why?

Moon Full Produces Sheri's Daily Flog

Questions:

If someone perfers love/homage in their own words, do you wait until they grow up or wait until they use your words to provide their own self love as praise or do you sorrow over your lost words?

How far can one stretch one's mind and heart into the lives of thousands, listen to their heart beat, their cries of anguish and lust, before you are shattered into a shards mirroring yourself and only feel as deep as glass?

Is it better to go slowly and half as much so you pace yourself to the lives of those around you or will you find them jealous of your slowness and half pace instead of jealous of the creation of what might have been?

Did Guinevere anguish at the broken round table or find comfort in the austere nunnery or forever dream of Lancelot's missed kiss and the lost and loving arms of her husband?

If you grab all the pain you feel and mash it into a tiny, small, hidden spot, does it have the same destructive power as a black hole or does it learn to fade away in the veil of the void?

If someone expects to find you where you were a year ago unchanged, would you call them friend or expect to have your best interests at heart?

Busy at the flash fiction course...

Almost got it all done. Got my two stories in and my crits, but forgot to do the analysis. I guess that's for tomorrow after golf. Also a bunch of blog work and made my myspace account look pretty. Check it out at :

http://www.myspace.com/sfharper

It's Here! Decalmaker...my chapbook published by Pudding House Press.

This is such good news, I'm really proud of it. Pudding House Press did a wonderful job with the cover and my last minute edits. My photo of the cover doesn't do much justice to it, it's a black picture on a gray cover, perfect for the content of life in a factory. I'm just beginning to do all the important things to publicize it. Whenever something of mine gets published, I always realize what a real beginner I am.

I hope to get work done on my story later. With our house guest gone, all the things Iet slip like haircuts and gardens and family show up to take his place. Did some research on articles and one posting.

Memories feed your writing

A day of memories--Beethoven's Fifth Piano Concerto and chorale, music for our wedding, great background for the scene I'm working on. Bad thing about writing love scenes is they get so mushy and bring back sooo many memories. 749 words plus a second scene with another 245 for the first chapter.

Saw "Premonition", not a bad movie, but from a writing perspective, kind of fun, lots of flashbacks and reused material, story opened, too, with all the no-no's--everyday activities like laundry, dusting, showering. I think the moral was if you want to talk on the cell phone while driving, especially to have an extra-marital affair, you are going to fry. Good acting by Sandra Bullock, many touching family scenes and good horror tone, you definitely got many mixed messages and eerie feelings.

Really got into the mystic, healer persona today, especially after reading this fine article on Gather http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474976939995 and then running into Brother Sebastion over on http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nutshell_Cubbyhole/ . I have to seriously admire those who work with the ill, not something I can do directly. Reminded me of Hafiz and Rumi and Loreena McKennitt's "the Mask and Mirror"--what a fine song to make love to, "The Dark Night of the Soul" even if St. John of the Cross spoke of his love for God. My runes say that "even in love, it is love loving through you".

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...

Wrote an 800 word essay. Started a scene but couldn't go. Wasted lots of time bumming around the web and playing games, my one day a week of down time? Still, I thought through a long a difficult scene so maybe tomorrow it will skim off my fingertips like greased lightning. Also did several critiques and got a good walk in between raindrops.

In the rattle of the electric ending--

fingertips,

late night, agonized--

copper wires running through resistors

of blue silenced lips,

the egg pot mind dreams

and in dreaming, renews.

New scene started, but tired

Golf day at Riverbend, had a good round, my five wood actually hitting pretty regular for the first time in weeks. 111 from the white. I'm getting better at estimating the lack of roll due to mud.

Scene started 200 words, then thrown away and rewrote another 600. Still not quite sure what I want done with it, maybe I'll dream a solution.

Still having monkey dreams and ocean and a screaming primitive and...forgot most of the rest.

Two halves of the moon eclipsed

Going on right at this very moment, full eclipse of the moon. Sorry not to see it. We have gray days and the hints of first spring.

First there were two sides that spun around each other and confused. I tested one. Found it lost. The second side was easier, never showed itself. All done.

Eclipse is about voids, ends, emptiness waiting to be filled. It's about the holes that exist inside.

Life is easier to live when you have no wants or desires.

Emptiness can be very cold but is balanced. Clarity can be seen in the dark. Those that shine do so brightly. Those black holes, whirling, drawing life out of focus.

Clear intent

Clear Intent

the fingerstroke of friends do that

make the sun's bright beams turn

make us wavery under heat

but asking truly with ear and heart open

brings the same cast

the white buffalo demands best

the heart and soul of land

blessing seas wavery hand

exacts a price of tide

earth turns under to earth

water melts into tears

and somewhere in the air

an albatross awaits

tomorrow, the grief of snake bite

to the east, a dragon burns

to the south common dolphins

arch in  pride and play

leaving me holding harvest

up with tears

instead of tomorrow

with open arms.

Sheri Fresonke Harper