A little bit of community

Is Dog Dead?

A tempest
in a typo.

(Tom Beckett)

Just over a year or so ago, during one of those periods when nothing seems able to turn over the pebbles in your mind to find what hides beneath, I sought the help of Tom Beckett. "Titles" I wrote. "Give me titles."

Tom used to post titles to As/Is in the early days of that blog. Wonderful, provocative things that got the juices going. The poet laureate of titles. They & the marvellous hay(na)ku that he also posted there drew me to him, a like mind, a distant brother. I wrote a couple of things under his titles, so it was only natural to seek him out when I needed some stimulation to get my shit going again.

He gave me a list of titles, & I put poems to them. The wheels were in action, I did donuts to disperse the dust of my despair. Another act of kindness, one of many that Tom goes about quietly doing.

So when he asked a return list from me I was only too happy to oblige. Though, selfish bastard that I am, I also used the list as a post because it fitted in with the Enumerations - or, more precisely, e-Numerations - that I'm currently doing. & Tom's started posting poems at Soluble Census in response to my titles which delights me & delight me. His marvellous sense of humour comes charging through. As with the poem at the top of this post, as with the one beneath.

Deliberate Serendipity

...or...

...the...

...sequins...

...of...

...events...