At the last minute I decided to change the title of the final (eighth) section from Blood in Ink to Facts of Blood - the former poem was published in the latest Ecca book, Throw in your Song; but the latter poem is more permanent in its meaning. Here is an extract from it:
"[...]
see the pink lamps
of flowering wild
grasses bending
on long stalks in
a kind of ecstatic submission to
the sun, as it turns
iron-red the luminous
trunks of pines in
the plantation [...]"
- from Facts of Blood, title poem of section 8 to appear in Greater Matter later this year.
As it happens, I've simultaneously just switched off an overnight bisque-firing of a kiln-load of ceramic parrot-broaches, ordered by the Cape Parrot Project for taking along to Ohio next week, to a parrot-lovers' indaba. Why is there a feeling of such beautiful order in all of my creative chaos?
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| Some of last year's batch of parrot broaches, photo taken in October 2018. |
