Back in August I started this by writing poems
on fabric, tea dyeing it, cutting it in strips,
and putting them back together...
Now (which I dreaded and long postponed)
I machine quilted it in rather awkward swirls
and loops - which wasn´t all that bad, actually...
... onto an old, tea dyed kitchen towel...
...repeating the words in an infinite loop (feeling
like being in one myself, or is it a rat race...?)
as a kind of border...
It´s this poem by Robert Pinsky. Can´t say it
feels too good though, butchering people´s
poems for one´s own purposes, which makes me
aim a bit more determined at taking up
writing again, trying to produce my own
material (somehow, somewhen, somewhere...)
“If you know what you are going to write when
you're writing a poem, it's going to be average.”