A Poet’s Work

Smiths and poets were traditionally both shape changers, who turned the windy, watery stuff of the world into solid objects, in useful shapes.

P1020467Hand-made Forge, Bustarfell, Iceland

The fashion today is for poets to manage social interfaces between people, rather than these elemental ones with the world. That is fine work, but this other transformative work remains. I don’t feel comfortable having it all done by industrial machines and processes. Do you?

 

7 thoughts on “A Poet’s Work

  1. Well no, I used to write with pencil on tiny pieces of paper. And now I still would love to do it that way. But I’m spoiled. I wish I had one of those modern pcs one can carry around. I mean okay, I can carry mine around but I’d have to put all the cables back in at it’ll take like an hour. ^^ The best ideas come at odd times anyways. When I’m cutting wood. When I wake up from one of those strange dreams in which I didn’t show up myself. Thought about buying a dictaphone or something. An hour later it is all gone into wordnirvana.

  2. People I don’t know. Last dream like that was a mystery radio play. Someone fell or rather was pushed down a scaffolding on a gloomy house. No idea why I think it was a radio play, because I could see it. There were two women and one man involved and I never met any of them. I can sometimes by will continue to sleep to continue the story. But they never have a proper ending. -.- Except if they consist of an ending without the rest.

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