When I was teaching, I’d often trot out Coleridge’s phrase: ‘Poetry is the best words in the best order,’ without ever questioning what it actually meant. Yet I realise that I’ve stuck to it in my writing for some years, often feeling that I was falling short of finding the best words, or putting them in the best order. Lately, I’ve been more inclined to disrupt my texts (I hesitate to say poems) as a way of exploring new meanings. I’m less concerned with the best order and, as a result, I’m finding that I’m able to concentrate more on the possible new order(s) that a piece might contain. I like the Oulipo school of thought, where the potential of literature is central. What is the potential of a word? What potential can be unlocked by changing words, or word order? I’ll hold my hands up and say this has often meant I’ve written gibberish, but at the same time, new and surprizing meanings have surfaced. I’ve only just started to share some of this work in the workshops I attend and I don’t feel ready to post any of these pieces yet, but the process is interesting. It’s like the photographs I’ve posted above (taken in Prague last year). You can stand and watch the statue revolve slowly. There’s a head: sometimes it’s disintegrating; sometimes it’s whole. It never locks into place. It just keeps turning, breaking up, remaking itself. The process is important. The meanings are multiple. I like this.