So if autumn is a good season for writing, there is also a good day for writing. It is Sunday, of course, that day when we have time on our hands. Eileen Myles says so in an interview in The New York Times:
Sunday is a likely day to write a poem. Because poetry is a piece of language flying around, you’ll find notebooks, something on your phone. It’s about finding them and getting them off that crumpled piece of paper and onto my computer. My bed is by the window, and the light is perfect. I have written so much poetry there over the years. With the trees and cemetery below, it has a 19th-century quality.
I'm a big fan of Eileen Myles, their write-in's (writing in the vicinity of other thinking bodies), art criticism (check the collection The Importance of Being Iceland. Travel Essays in Art - to travel in art!) and poetry (I must be living twice).
Somehow I always miss out on Eileen Myles. I had to leave when they were coming to Berlin for a reading and I was in Bergen just one week before they were to give a write-in there. But then this summer I caught Eileen Myles online, for a Performance-In-Place, showing the art collection in their house in Marfa, Texas.
Did I write a poem this Sunday? No, I didn't. I went for 12 km walk around Liegnitzsee up North from Berlin. I saw a lot of natural poems like this beauty here:
