Blog
I’m still in shock. It’s been quite a week, culminating yesterday in my partner Robin nearly slicing his finger off. Most of Saturday was spent in A&E. I can’t say it was fun, but I can say I was remarkably calm considering the end of Robin’s finger was held on by a very small flap of skin. I who cannot bear the sight of blood and gore managed to get myself together and drive to the hospital violating at least seven rules of road safety on the way. And lived to tell the tale. I even looked at the aforementioned finger and did not faint.
Poetry of course has taken second place in the last few days, but what is interesting about doing what I do is that there’s always a part of me sitting in the back row of my life thinking ‘This is good material’. I thought that as I sat in the plaster room at A&E. I thought the same thing when I kissed my beloved Uncle goodbye (See my poem of the week) after his week-long visit from New York, and Robin as he went through the departure gate at the airport. Of course these are not tragedies - I hope - but small, significant losses or changes and indeed who knows if you will ever see that person again - the one you bid farewell in the morning or kiss goodbye before they get on a plane or a bus or a bicycle. Life is dangerous. My Uncle once went into the ring with a bull, just for the hell of it - he loves adventures. He was thrown by the bull (well duh) and was lucky to survive at all. Later, a friend said ‘You were trying to commit suicide, weren’t you?’ and he said ‘Are you out of your fucking mind? I LOVE being alive’. And so he does. And so do I. And then I love writing about it.
Really, you do have to live if you want to write. You have to experience and relish and feel the world. These fallow periods of feeling and doing are the blood of the work.
And here I am, back to blood again. Immediately I see that severed finger, the bone visible under the flesh, the plastic surgeon with his needle ... it may be years before the poem surfaces, but surface it will.
Be careful, I tell myself. Accidents will happen.
I who cannot bear the sight of blood and gore managed to get myself together and drive to the hospital violating at least seven rules of road safety on the way
Sunday, 23 March 2008
The Severed Finger
