Monday 8 July 2013
Mind as minefield.
Speaking of memory, while reworking some older poems some displaced fragment from the past threatened to upset my equilibrium. It was something about writing, of having laid down personal descriptive detail on a cast of characters. Whether a movie, book, story or play, I did not try to remember. The memory had a decidedly unpleasant aura so that I turned my mind from it and proceeded to ram it back down to wherever it had come from. I think that I was at least partially successful, as the discomfort receded.
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I love how your words flow easily, yet are descriptive, and tell the story beautifully. I have felt the same on many occasions. Some painful memory rises from the put of my stomach like acid and I try my best to posh it back down. There is always that slight after taste, but it's not as bad as before. (your description was better) just thought I'd share a Lil something too.
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