March 6, 2008 at 6:29 pm | Posted in prosepoemthingy, writing | 14 Comments
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The first book i got which i kept all this time is inscribed September 1969, To Paul, love and very best Wishes, Hugh and Valerie. i really wish i could remember who’s Hugh and Valerie.

It is a collection of beautiful Australian nature poems written by Irene Gough called One Sunday Morning Early. If I lose everything else, as I often have before, somehow this book has stayed with me.

planets going nuts, been a long summer of wild rains, floods swept through the North, the overflow has reached us and the crows are going crazy, man, planets going nuts and the crows are going crazy,


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  1. I didn’t put the link in there cos it looks ugly to underline things but here is as close as i got to finding Irene Gough, she is hiding, but she is a fantastically wonderful poet, and if I could find her she would be getting one huge ((((((((((((((((((((you))))))))))))))))))))))

  2. how great that you still have that book and it always stays with you…….the ending to this is very powerful.

  3. I have a book that was given to me when i was quite young, The bluebird of happiness.

    The planets ARE going nuts, they react to human emotions, dontcha know…emotional energy lets of an electrical charge which is then transmuted into strange weather patterns…..thats my doctoral theseis. ( trust me, i’m a phychic haha) i like your small i,s….and its patently obvious to anyone with any intelligance, or any breeding whatsover, that its NOT a mistake. As is my bad spelling.

    And you are never boring, confusing for a simple minded maid such as myself sometimes , but boring, no.

  4. Yes its a strange thing, Jo, i didn’t even realise til yesterday that i still had it, it has persisted in many bookcases and boxes and suitcases where absolutely everthing else i had when i six years old is gone,
    You were just writing your comment, Enigma, as i was deleting the one you were talking to, but your comment is still wonderful, thankyou,

  5. You have a talent to make people laugh at the rise of your fingers. That last line out there is sheer genius of yours; all over again…

  6. I have managed to hang onto a Brautigan book and the Woodstock album from 1969–not much else survived. It is amazing what stays with us. When crows are going crazy we are lucky to still have those special treasures.

  7. There’s a dramatic profoundness to this, when I read it again now;
    planets going nuts and the crows are going crazy, and one book staying on like an integrally differentiated part of self. Fits perfectly with your brilliant maxim of a non-linear time and the whole being greater, much greater than the sum of the parts!

  8. our crows are going crazy too and the planet is going nuts, there’s a connection between those two things

  9. In all that which is going nuts, we might yet find sanity. Never was one to give in to pessimism.

  10. watch out for those murders…

  11. i go to the bookshop to smell the new books if i get sad
    i go to the thrift shop to listen to the old books when i am full of music
    a shape shifter, a healer, a threepart person, a goddess, Morrigan, the madness of crows?

    Gamekeepers ate crow at this time of year as the pheasant are mathunting and the rabbits are small. crows get rowdy in march, yell out our torment from skeleton trees
    clatter their beaks at the clouds and we, we have to sit quietly being notmad.

    Yes, i understand i think

  12. mate hunting
    my words rush like a brook sometimes, forgive me.

  13. I know you understand Ebby, no need to forgive what is not wrong, everytime i see you there i just want to (((((((((((you)))))))))
    And thankyou everybody for sneaking out my not very well hid thought, i just realised i forgot to give it a title, hmm,

  14. I really enjoy this new style, or sentiment. It seems to be closer to the heart and distant from the head=honest. It is so strange to me how diametrically opposed our lives are. You are almost finished with summer and listening to crazy crows and I am excited for the beginning of spring excited by new born birds. It is truly a strange life in which we have found ourselves. Keep on tap dancing with your magical fingers.

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