Challenge - 30 - #04

I do not start to write until the afternoon today. There was an extra class again today, a teacher being unwell, and I have also been doing some marking, and writing a few comments.

The sky is very blue today, and the sun is hot. Even the staffroom feels a little warmer. I have been reading about poetry, a lecture by George Szirtes, but haven't finished it yet. Now I want to write.

My plan, about using the #challenge30 as a kind of Morning Pages writing session, does not seem to work. The wonderful freedom of Morning Pages, knowing that no-one is going to read, is absent. There is a cheap joke to be had there, is there not? Writing and posting into the void, a few loyal upvotes, and then preserved in the blockchain, like a fly in amber.

Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing ...

The rest is silence.

Macbeth, ostensibly, was talking about life, but why not also about words? The signs and the signifieds. It's difficult to think of the idea immutable when the very nature of poetry ... well, IMHO, ... is like smoke in the wind.

And that beautiful poetic silence? Acquiescing to the prattle of prose, it might seem like that.

I read one book by Wendell Berry, and he talked about the grand gesture, the setting fire of the prairie to let the homestead know we'd be home for tea: did he go on with that, what is the poet's equivalent, or the writer's?

I'd like to be able to comment at least on old posts. If we are to take the stance that post's here have value, and permanence, then dialogue should continue. Perhaps another layer of textual interaction would allow this, another dimension, so that the community could solidify through time. I would not feel that I have to be posting regularly in order to maintain an interaction. As well as curating today's posts, I would like to have the option of raising, in whatever small way, posts from the ancient past, the archeology of Steemit, 3 months ago, late September.