Space: The First Frontier
I’ve been writing all sorts of things for years. Genuinely chaotic - and happily chaotic, too. There’s never been time to get this stuff together, and to be honest having read it all again, I really don’t know how it’ll fit into this world of poetry/ prose and writing.
I don’t know what I’m doing. and I don’t want to care.
So to help kick it off, I submitted something on Space Day to a Twitter thread run by the poetry and arts collective The Broken Spine.
As is the way right now, this piece just dumped itself on my keyboard: I was trying to finish something else, caught the news about Elon’s sky fart, so I made a start. And here’s what came out the other end.
Tony Stark cried
And the result?
Nothing. No NASA internship, no call from Elon wanting to frame it, not even abuse from some drunken dropout from the astronaut program of ‘95.
And that’s not the point.
All that matters is I did it
I had the idea
Got it down
Polished it up a little
Liked it and sent it out into space.
Into the ether, the dark matter of subjective atmosphere or something…
And next?
I’m sat on a pile of notes turning them into 1’s and zeros. It’s getting digitised, backed up, tagged up and read. There are scrawls and fears and utter rubbish.
But there’s moments where I feel proud.
Proud I kept this stuff, and that I’m able to reflect on what I’ve been doing.
It’s always been this way tbh (wild dumping of ideas) and long may this chaos reign, it’s just that there’s a time to organise. Now, I don’t know if it’s poetry. And franky I can’t care; It’s getting sent out there - to bounce of a scruffy asteroid or get flame grilled in the heart of the sun.
Thanks for staying with, much appreciated.
In other channels
Just a quick update. As you might know, most of my work so far has appeared over on the Sunflowers in the blood substack - it you’ve not spotted it, please take a look as there’s work arriving from very interesting people.
Cheers on your work leaving our little rock!