Experimental writing workshop 2


This week is about doing an exercise from CA Conrad’s A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon: New (Soma)tics. This is a beautiful book, mixing poems and ‘exercises’, most of which are designed to take you out of sitting in front of the laptop or at a desk. Instead why not try making soup and writing with your hand in your soup? Or writing with a penny in your mouth? The Soma(tics) are about feeling and writing, writing and feeling, finding my body, coalescing the divine and the nervous system, all of which is explained better in the introduction to the book which I think you should be able to read via Amazon’s Look Inside.

31pu4j1n2VL._SL250_The image, top right, outlines the exercise I picked, taking a crystal, throwing it on a hand drawn map, and going to where it falls to write. This is an initial draft pulled from the notes I wrote while out. I’ve consciously not punctuated or added capitals because I’m fed up with Word capitalising for me. I may come back and punctuate later but this flow seemed to fit with the thoughts and notes I created:


If you are broken I might be good enough

pink warm crystal next to my skin stone grey sea rises and falls with my heart beat

sun in my eyes blind me to what stands chill freeze my fingers can’t write rays caress me open

no gold why is it so hard to think about love

heat rises from my fingertips capillaries contract cotton polyester wool in layers keep me warm food in my belly love

two pairs of socks fur toed boots

waves roll in heaped spray spreads into a sheets of foam slide up the beach bubble and roil knife edged love no more skin exposed than lips and nose and icyfingertips

waves role in rein in ride in relentless unceasing roll me over and over and over

and I am with you because you have no interest in me other than as a mirror for you I can stay hidden worship me you say and my worship is enough

wind in my hair makes me put my hood up just like your words scar knife marks yours wound chill at my breast

what I want doesn’t exist what I want is imperfect because I can imagine what I want

waves roll and roll sun seeps from the cold wind blows harder fingers freeze still chill on my heart sun warm on my eyes and you are hundreds of miles away

expose my eskimo skin grey white winter skin and hair strip layer after layer, cotton, polyester, wool, bare myself for you will you do the same for me

out of place nothing before me line roll on

role on

rhole on

rowl on

worl on

wowl on

ole on