Chris Walsh (chris_walsh) wrote,
Chris Walsh
chris_walsh

Notes from Chris, 2000-2001 Edition

I had cause to pull out a notebook I was writing in back in 2000. Randomness within that notebook gets shared...NOW:

**

Slipping into a swirl
Recover
Balance, pattern, speed, abandon
Finding beauty in chaos
-- Dance expands the body, the self
Into fleeting sculptures of flesh
Punctuating the darkness.


(November 23, 2000)

(note to side that "fleeting" could possibly be replaced with "moving," "floating," or "flowing," and I liked "flowing" in that context almost as much as "fleeting" and almost substituted it.)

**

Would God swear?

**

Positive energy
In negative space.

(...no, I'm not entirely sure what that means.)

**

He sneezes with enough force to jumpstart a car.

**

Image: a woman pretends to hold a cigarette between her index and middle fingers and she forms an O and blows -- on a cold night, so her breath condenses, causing the cloud. Pretending to smoke.

That's as close as she wants to get to smoking.

**

(The following was inspired by the grammar lesson in Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, reminding us that English does have a core simplicity if you strip it down: "Take any noun, put it with any verb, and you have a sentence. It never fails. Rocks explode. Jane transmits. Mountains float. These are all perfect sentences. Many such thoughts make little rational sense, but even the stranger ones (Plums deify!) have a kind of poetic weight that's nice.")

Shoes dance. Roses sing. Coupons burn. Rivers crumple. Air crashes. Pants climb. Trash breathes. Colors scream. Teeth melt. Shirts bleed. Wood flows. Lakes flip. Rugs walk. Albums oscillate. Insects revolt. Tapes transmogrify. Tortillas smile. Blankets blend.

(2009 note: I'm rather fond of "Teeth melt.")

**

And finally, for now, more poetry:

A good kind of exhaustion
The remains of exertion
-- the dancing and clapping and laughing and more
That galloped through your body
Pushing it
Happily straining in special directions
And, perhaps, getting near a rhythm
As music echoed
"Decorating time" (as Frank Zappa said)
And you decorated space.


(July 6, 2001 -- after I'd attended the Waterfront Blues Festival for the first time)


Poems © Christopher Walsh, 2001. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Walsh (chris_walsh) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Tags: language, poetical
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