Feminist poetry. And literature. There seems to be a lot of it out there …. judging by my feed, anyway. (For Christmas gift ideas, look no further than here) …. And it comes across as somehow above criticism – as though the sensitive subject matter places it in a file labelled ‘protected species’.
So when somebody (who chooses to remain nameless) throws one into my inbox I’m not entirely sure how to react (or how not to react).
So I throw it into the air and give it some space without commenting one way or the other ….. allowing others to judge her, but not me.
I was thinking this morning (for reasons undisclosed I have a lot of time for thinking at present) about what role, if any, I serve in this strange digital space that we all share.
I have thus been forced to acknowledge that much of my time sailing upon the high seas of WordPress is in the search for hidden treasure to pilfer and deface. I am a poetry pirate. When the poetry of others comes into my view I tend to leap aboard before stealing all the good ideas and escorting the original owners off the gangplank and undertaking a shameless defacing of their vessel and then setting it adrift as an unrecognisable piece of wreckage.
There have been lots of victims. You know who you are.
Sorry about that.
My latest victim was Ivor, who you may know as a fellow countryman of mine and published poet of some renown (any brief investigation will reveal that I have not published a word myself, and am a multiple university dropout). I want to publicly thank Ivor for accepting the invasion in the spirit that it was intended.
Ivor was relating, via his poetry, his passing thoughts whilst lying in his hospital bed. Recalling all the wonderful drugs that they hand out freely in hospital as a source of inspiration, I immediately leapt into bed with Ivor and set about my work.