March

Revelations made during a period of windows opening

Bridget Gilmartin is Running Dog’s poet in residence for February and March.

Each month, a poet produces new work, which is distributed via Running Dog’s monthly newsletter—Stray. If you haven’t already, sign up to our newsletter.

•   •   •

after Anne Carson

 

On Difficult Feelings 

Some days you wake up in the middle of a feeling
like a lake, and spend the rest of the day trying to
get to the bank. On these days, all things, including
the carnations on the footpath, appear to have grown
teeth. This is a matter of perception, and yet, it does
not make it any less of a reality.

 

On Windows

It’s important on these days to realise that all things can
become windows just the same.  When you look at a
window a lot depends on whether you look back at
yourself, or whether you look out the window. Note the
way people walk, or the position of the sun. Note that
everything is moving.

 

On Carnivorous Plants 

There are some beliefs about yourself that are
sloped and if you don’t climb out they swallow you,
like a Venus flytrap. Sometimes the trap can feel like
a womb, or a bed.

 

On Knowing

Holding onto a pre-conceived notion means choosing the
singular over the multiplicitous. In surrendering to un-
knowing, we can experience a weightlessness. Sometimes
we hold onto what we think we know so hard we dig our
fingers into ourselves. We open our palms to realise we
are not holding onto anything at all. 

 

On Severance

When it comes to severance, a lot depends on whether
you are willing to inspect the wound rather than jerk
away from it. You can climb into that canyon. There are
flowers growing there.