it's winter where you are

ahhh 2012 how you snuck up on me!  despite this, i’ve managed to batten down the hatches and be more creative in this first month than a lot of last year.  stress can, on ocassion, suit me.  so here’s my submission for the 2012 Sketchbook Project through Art House Coop.  Rebound sketchbook made from the pages from a vintage book on witchcraft, coptic stitched spine then muddled pages, white acrylic, typed on an Olympia Splendid 33, cut out snowflakes, and finally biro and indian ink to finish.  I opted to fill it with a new vilanelle - yes, i like my finickity structures for such things - it has an interesting repetitive structure which encourages emphasis on certain lines and themes which hopefully works with the mood.  my only thought is that due to my line placement it’s not hugely clear on how to read.. but yeah.  that’s my fault.  the typed line wouldn’t fit on a single portrait page, so i opted to stretch across the spread awkwardly.. though again, i suppose i’m partially playing with the page and the spread as a canvas in terms of word placement, particularly towards the end.  and i’m rusty at all of this. :>  

“it’s winter where you are”

Haunted: your ghost leaves a memory like a scar
(cut deep with stolen moments, darkened doorways, hot skin)
but now, after all this time, it’s winter where you are.

Drinking left me empty, I looked for you in every bar -
scoured couples sprawled in corners, indulging secret sins.
(haunted: your ghost leaves a memory like a scar

which spasms arrhythmically – it keeps my mind ajar
by your ghost wreaking havoc: incessant phrenic din)
But now, after all this time, it’s winter where you are

and snow muffles memory, you’ve never been more afar
yet still I cling to you, to this ghostly fictive kin.
Haunted: your ghost leaves a memory like a scar

and this damage shapes your form - your ghost is tar
distilled from destroying any hope at calm within
but now, after all this time, it’s winter where you are

and still I carry this with me, I carry this mar
of not keeping you, not being enough, such potent chagrin
haunted: your ghost leaves a memory like a scar
but now, after all this time, it’s winter where you are.