Last night I walked around the SPAR parking lot and suddenly I got the idea of a poet of the night (the French decadent poet) Baudelaire who couldnt possibly be in Mafikeng -- but since J had invoked him, his spirit must be, so I was imagining what he would be up to in our seedy, dirty backwater stalking the streets when all our night flowers (such as they are) come out to bloom. I also had the idea of him in some kind of race with his shadow which is always running ahead (very Jungian). The poem was finished by about 9.15 and posted to my blog ( a lot of it actually written on my phone in the rather deserted street). It was picked up this morning by a very fancy poetry blog (Haunting Poetry) based in Georgia (USA) and published there with some rather impressive stuff on or by other writers -- much on the Ferguson issue and the feeling that a Police State lies just around the corner (suddenly George Orwell becomes a political Nostradamus: what he foresaw coming seemed a bit wide of the mark 30 years ago, but far less so today.
Posted on: Tue, 19 Aug 2014 17:02:07 +0000
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