
When I entered the Red Bull paper aircraft competition yesterday - I should have as a friend said, written a poem on the plane - which gave me an idea for a paper plane poetry event whereby people throw planes into an audience - and they must stand up and read the poems aloud - or something like that - in Denmark some guerilla poets placed poems in the Danish version of Exchange & Mart - so if you thought you were in the section for combiner harvester parts - suddenly you came across ... a poem

Chris I came across one of those coffee table books on writers - the when, why, how and the like - good old Babs Cartland would write from the comfort of a sofa - dictating to a secretary - some write while in bed - on the porch - next to the swimming pool with a cool martini nearby - the very tall American novelist Thomas Wolfe used a fridge as a desk - I scribble and think every time I have a gap in an activity - on anything at hand - life bounces in and out of writing - reading of course informs writing - and some like the structure of canonic forms - like Blue Peter readymades - the sonnet template, the haiku, others take risks - abandon ship and drift into uncharted territories. I think the writing of poetry arises and is created in all kinds of conditions. Some of it is put in a drawer and forgotten like an ex-flame - and then it reappears with all the intensity of before - or not...Being studyless - ah the freedom! :-)