Sophie Mayer

As NaPoWriMo draws to a conclusion in a haze of indexing, swine flu hypochondria and the gorgeous sounds of the Late Junction St. George's Day broadcast, I wish I could spring forth a brilliant, fully-formed poem. Due to the aforementioned haze, however, what I have at this sharp end of the month is: a half-full notebook of poem sketches, fragments, notes and crime report numbers; an abiding pleasure in the practice of taking poetry seriously, everyday; a deep-seated love of Fluxus instructions as "inspiration" and exercise; a bookshelf full of poetry books purchased in celebration of National Poetry Month, and which I am planning to read once the indexing is done (and also the new NMC Songbook, a Late Junction fave); a few finished poems that may even have publishing destinations; and, best of all, a renewed sense of connection to other poets engaged in writing and reading their work.

In tribute to Late Junction, which has kept me sane over this indexy month, here's a creative instruction that I mis-heard Verity Sharp issue on the St. George's Day broadcast:

create pieces out of doors

She was talking about The A Lords, who record music out-of-doors, but - as I type this on a kitchen table made from an oak door - I loved the hewn sense of making art from doors, those tempting, frightening, massive, fragile objects that block our way and let us through. Out-of-doors is good as well.

Lots of other fragments this month have been sparked in response to films, so I'm hoping they will materialise into more film poems -- especially as I'm now writing about radical feminist poet, filmmaker and performer Jane Arden for the BFI's DVD release of her mad, intense wonderful films. Until then, here's the fragment - and tribute to Lorna Goodison - that's stayed with me but hasn't yet acquired a poem:

I am becoming Beth Ditto.