Another 500-year flood


We have something
that is called
Dr Knight said.

The world isn’t stationary
any more
hydrology isn’t
the landscape isn’t.

So why
are we still presuming
the future will look
like the past?

Reclaim the high ground.
Wow, said Donald
water damage
is the worst

photo and found poem by rachel mcalpine cc by 2.0


Scoby of all poems


too early to brush your teeth
but not too late to edit a dream
it’s nowhere time

dawn is bubbling away outside
a fertile nothing
floats around the bed

poems ferment in a hollow mouth
a wandering ear
an earthen jar

a spot in a mushy mind
for a constellation

hovering like a scoby
growing itself inside the leathery
luxury of limbo

all you need to catch a poem
is willing eyes, broken ears,
fingers, and a sieve

pic and poem by rachel mcalpine cc by 2.0

For NZ National Poetry Day, 25 August 2017, a poem about poems: poets can’t help doing this sometimes. What’s a scoby? A slimy, ugly, living organism that creates kombucha out of sweetened tea. Like a ginger-beer bug, you know.

And the scoby of all poems is … space, silence, that mysterious state of hypnogogia. For the last two months I have been dead to creative enterprises. Now we’re sorted, I hope, so it’s time to cut down on external stimuli and enjoy the magic of my own mind.

You can tell I’m an introvert, although I pass as normal. Lots of poets do.

Hypnogogia, the state between sleep and wakefulness, is key to creativity — Huffington Post