Metal Monkey's blog

Message from China

Hello Everyone,

Apologies for abandoning the cause! Managed to get myself to China for the summer. I have been here exactly one week now and finally feeling steady enough to write a hello message with an 'I'll be back in full force' shout out attached. Hope the picture gives a nice touch to the recent classical chinese workshop, it is taken from the Summer Palace in Beijing.

MM

hey, hey, hey from the country of Fat Albert

Since I won't be making any face to face contributions to 'hot house' in the near future, thought I should share a few random thoughts and complete the 'homework'...

1st of all I was crazy disappointed about missing the Love Anthology book launch. Its how I booked my airplane ticket the same morning I received the email invitation. So, I'd love to hear about how that went?!?! Well done to all U hot housers that were published. Can I get some pledges for getting a book signed?

When I loved a fish man...

There are three premature ATTEMPTS at praise poems of 'people' in my writing notebook - this one is the most recognisable as a poem. Sadly it is not even slightly recognisable as a poem of 'Praise'. I hope to do better with the other two.

Please offer any ideas for improving it, or just be honest... You can tell me if it belongs in the bin. My feeling is that the journey is a bit jolty or ends to abruptly - something not quite working yet.

When I loved a fish man
it was like meeting a pulse
or watching a rainbow breathe
just muscle, silver and dance.

Household Gods

Here's my attempt to 'praise' some household objects... In my typical fashion I let the thoughts get skewed. Wud luv to know immediate reactions and ideas for improvements. -Eileen

Household Gods

I
The Washing Machine
gurgles tabula rasa, with the countenance
of a house priest. Constantly forgiving
the dirt that accompanies living. Confessions
and hymns are washed words strung into lines.
Allow the gust to have its way, open lives
at the folds. In an effort of air everything is shown.

II
The Dust Bin
stands dutiful, locked outside to the night winds.

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