Just like an echo is a mirror of sound, February is a mirror of November. Lead-sky, writes Jan Zwicky in the Wittgenstein Elegies, as though God coloured the light with a pencil. And Anne Sexton: I have died once before in November. In a dream writing workshop, I try to find a balance between immediacy and refinement. First I write the dream, then the prose poem, the dream, the poem. Like this I edit down my subconscious into a series of images and feelings. Iron belted tampons left on a shelf, the distorted appearance of legs through water, a fork in a river. Its so abstract. Someone dreams that they need a new mirror and we talk about this for an hour.
Dream Winter
Dream Winter
Dream Winter
Just like an echo is a mirror of sound, February is a mirror of November. Lead-sky, writes Jan Zwicky in the Wittgenstein Elegies, as though God coloured the light with a pencil. And Anne Sexton: I have died once before in November. In a dream writing workshop, I try to find a balance between immediacy and refinement. First I write the dream, then the prose poem, the dream, the poem. Like this I edit down my subconscious into a series of images and feelings. Iron belted tampons left on a shelf, the distorted appearance of legs through water, a fork in a river. Its so abstract. Someone dreams that they need a new mirror and we talk about this for an hour.