Image from Days of Being Wild, by Wong Kar Wai. One of my favourite films ever.
Listen to the soundtrack here.
Bruce Chatwin wanted to live inside an egg
Yellow around his runny self
My skin. Is this me?
I have a Moleskine
I don’t have the pen to right –
I am hungry for perfect conditions
Maybe potato print my insides, heart and brain
I think too quickly – I trip – to write
Deep down words as solemn anchor.
I don’t revisit scribbled faded landscapes.
Everything changes form.
I fight with accurate time and place no grid will help.
What was then, is now, and when?
Now: dreams, tales, fables and fantasy
Now, lines with the right pen
Feel pure pleasure pressed in palm and hand.
What is correct, true and blue,
Is nothing more than point of view.
The rainforest hides a tree, I’m told.
It screams when it’s cut
Paper and wood melt in heat and wet
Through time words written and unwritten come and go as they please
While ink runs my mind acts the role of a landing strip in the DMZ.
There’s that bird that has no feet
There old letters alight
Shine light on some sort of cracked mirror.
I was, still am, and ever will be
Reflected, reflective, described, and distorted
In so many words.
Copyright Vera Chok Feb 2013
A draft and may be edited. Inspired by Valerie Josephs via Chris McCabe’s Collaborations class. >>> indicates where Valerie has written stanzas. Of course, what I have posted above is in some way written in response to my interaction with both Valerie and her writing. I have edited in some changes to my text above that may or may not be in our joint piece. We are writing along the lines of “diaries” as the theme. We started talking about Moleskines.
Dedicated to Daniella Valz Gen.