Chop day? Well, again, I’m struck by the immediacy of this page-writing and how the instant the words are written I want to make changes. I want ‘A white onion’ for example, to slow the phrasing into ‘silence’. And I don’t want ‘a chop’ in the second line, I want ‘chop’ – ‘And what knows itself / as chop anyway? Chopped.’ In an economy of space, the page, I can choose to fill it or to make only one mark or to arrange many marks into the shape we call form or lines. I like the little poem that the line-breaks raise: ‘itself chopped down. Pork, paragraphs, rainforests, silence? Quiet now – world.’
And what knows itself
as a chop anyway? Chopped.
Choppy. Chop off. Chop down.
Chop up. Grass? Logs? Pork?
Water? Logic? Paragraphs?
A head? A limb? Rainforests?
Countries? An onion? Silence?
Do you consent? Quiet now.
Mud is the world.
another kind of happiness 