THEFT

I am a magpie, I take attractive words I have heard, the stories of others and attempt to make something else from them. Regular readers of this blog will know this already. Perhaps there are only a finite number of stories in the world and each new one is simply a variation? Anyway, here's a poem about it, very meta.

THEFT

On more than one occasion

I have taken a conversation

because it was there

attractive words hung in the air

and cast them in ink on a page

I was discussing the next poem with a friend recently and I was prompted to add a line. You can read the last version here. 

INNER SPACE

He took up mirrors

reflected on his reflection

Blanket wrapped the hours pass

gazing at his likeness

He is his own space telescope

the universe before him

And each eye a new world

to be examined in turn

One then the other

this is one then that

Consumed by more than silence

he floats untethered

Ever diminishing

I'm still not certain about this poem. Does it stand alone without the reader needing any extra knowledge? I think it needs to go away for a time.

Maya De Vitry is touring at the moment. Here she is from earlier this year.

Until next time.