Feel dislocated this morning, think I am experiencing a kind of magnetic hysteresis, a lag between the event and the emotional response, is this Lunaboca's "dreamhouse"?
But then again perhaps I am suffering the long term effects of my qubit lifestyle ...
Had a lot of fun working yesterday unpacking "inquiry" with some Wellington teachers - we worked into the evening and caught the late flight home - an airport experience worthy of it's own post - attracted another poem. Dylan Thomas might have described himself as a "magnet for moths" but I am currently falling over poets and poems that appear without warning.
You cannot pretend that you are involved in inquiry learning unless you allow freedom - and I guess in the use of the term "allowing" - the essential deceit in "inquiry learning" is exposed -
"Allowing", intellectual freedom and inquiry learning require above all things observation - is why the gift of Hone Tuwhare's poem was a moment of synchronicity, was so connected with the day.
I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain
If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut
And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind
the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground
the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops
But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
you
you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain
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