Hi Christina,
I'm glad this one hasn't escaped me!
(Some e-mails have started to not appear for days. I get some messages OK,
sometimes some are blank, and then the initial e-mail eventualy appears! But
I think all those electrickery things that hover in cyberspace may be
sorting themselves out again after a funny few weeks.
Anyway, your poem!
It's great!
The word "wearing" catches me by surprise. I find myself thinking: is this a
phrase from the kind of private language families have? i.e. "These are my
best clothes, these are my wearing clothes, these are my
I'm-not-going-out-today clothes..." I guess poetry can use private
languages, can use all languages...
I also find the word "beans" surprises me a little, too. I keep thinking:
what kind of beans? Baked beans, coffee beans...
But I like the surprises! I like the way the poem is never letting me settle
comfortably, is always not quite under control. Even the tea bags might have
become, must have become, unfamiliar - I mean I see tea bags before touching
them but the person, here, is focused on touch!
I wouldn't do much revision, if any! I'd maybe think about the semicolon
but, in the end, might end up thinking, "nah, they're rare in poems... bt
this one's OK!"
Bob

>From: Christina Fletcher <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: Ritual
>Date: Sat, 13 Nov 2004 03:41:54 EST
>
>
>
>Ritual
>
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>Words come  slowly
>or they're lost.
>
>         Find wearing clothes, lay  them out
>in battle  order. Check for blood,
>
>         smooth the duvet,  hoover
>crushed beans,  crumbs; clear
>
>         drinking things.  Draw  curtains.
>Light  shines,
>
>         objects ache for  adjectives.
>Master on/off  thing.
>
>         Touch, touch for tea  bags.
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>christina  fletcher