It’s easy to wrap up the large things I’ve read – simple to tie them up with ribbons and bows, outlining themes and concerns using broad, sweeping gestures. What’s harder is to dissect the little things. I’ve been reading Ander Monson’s Vanishing Point: Not a Memoir, and in it he says that “it’s only in the tiny that anything matters or exists at all.” Most of what I write is small – vignettes and poems, blog posts and flashes. Why prize the larger works when so many smaller things really speak to me, and they’re my main mode of creativity? I also want to cultivate the noticing of mundane life and quiet art.

It’s been a while between memes on this blog, and this is purely a matter of falling out of the habit. I’ll be running ‘Little Things’ posts intermittently, and each post will outline a handful of small things that have caught my attention.

April is NaPoWriMo – 30 poems in 30 days – and so I’ve been making an effort to read more poetry. The tiny red lotus in Jenn Webb’s ‘From: Four Cities: 3. On George Street’ has stuck with me. As has the feeling of displacement in Farz Edraki’s ‘Five signs you’re in the wrong time zone’, which appeared on Feminartsy this week.

I’ve been writing poems too, as is the NaPoWriMo goal. I’ve never written a good haiku – one that embraces nature and stillness – and I very much want to. So far this month, I’ve written poems that rhyme and ones that don’t. I’ve written poems that play with epic movement and physicality, and poems that meditate on memory. In chasing the elusive good haiku, I’ve written a lot of shit haikus. I wrote a poem based on the objects I spotted in the bottom of the NGV fountain, and one based on this picture that popped up in my Twitter feed: