Spinning, dancing aerialists on
invisible wires, barely noticing
the breeze. How different the
world must seem, suspended
on the strongest nothing.
You twirl and whirl in mid-air,
crawling on a sunbeam.
Gravity is nothing to you.
I watch you retreat to
forgotten corners, where
you will weave intricate traps,
watching the room with
eight unblinking eyes.
I shall leave you to spin your
patterns and clear out the flies.
Let vines, grass and leaves
wrap around the concrete,
work fine tendrils into cracks.
Let new life blanket our buses.
Fauna will reclaim the streets,
swallow our bricks and tiles
in a slow, relentless grip,
taking decades for demolition.
This land was never ours to own,
we were just renting these acres.
Let cities be fresh air factories again.
Abandon houses to abundant green.
The clouds have been kind for once.
I have no other choice than to lie
in a field and let the sun dry me out.
This moment hangs. Birds hover,
suspended instead of swooping.
Luxuriating in the magnificence
of just being, I half close my eyes.
In the edges of my weak vision,
uncountable universes multiply
trillions spinning from every second,
slight variations on every rule.
Where this pleasant sun burns
too fast and too bright. Where I am in this
same field but with a...
10- A diplomatic communication is mistranslated.
9- A chemical plant triples its production.
8- Grass continues to grow, stubbornly ignorant.
7- In a small country, a single bullet is fired.
6- Denial, lies, confusion. More denial, more lies, more confusion.
5- I try to do nothing but inhale and exhale slowly.
4- The pavements are buried under a blizzard of newspaper.
3- Everyone is shouting but words have been forgotten.
2- A hawk hovers above the motorway, waiting to strike.
1- Without speaking, we agree to stay in bed....
One fine, excessively pleasant morning
where Cirrius Unicus clouds were perfectly
placed over an azure sky, the colour of course,
[I’m lost and frightened]
caused by Rayleigh scattering in the upper atmosphere
first proposed by Lord Rayleigh in the year 1871
AD, and which is similar but not the same as
the Tyndall effect, discovered by John Tyndall
[like a child without it’s parent]
in 1860 AD, who used a tube of gases to simulate
the sky and discovered the wavelengths scattering
[trapped in a dark forest]
and it was under this...
I throw scrawled notebook pages
into the welcoming hands of the wind.
Radio tuned to static, droning
sound of the cosmic background radiation.
The direction of the breeze is unknown,
Chaos emerging from simple rules.
Occasionally, ticker tape cannons explode,
gold and silver cascade in random paths.
I have been carried by circumstance,
destinations visited by a roll of the dice.
Planets and galaxies are just seeds
clumped together, growing where they land.
My thoughts are carried over the fields
away from me and into the air beyond.
I had been sleeping in segments
like an essay you can’t concentrate on
and write in sloppy short paragraphs
before stopping. I was inbetween waking
and dreaming most days, half asleep
in the day, half awake at night.
That one night I must have been asleep
although I felt wide awake and wired.
My vision was engulfed in brightness;
beautiful vision of shock and awe,
hideous in its consuming beauty.
I knew, instinctively, like pulling
your hand from the fire, this was
a Being five dimensions...
Try to improve my mood
Ignore the constant smog
When the ice caps finally melted,
flooding the globe one hot summer,
consuming many major cities,
We were caught ignorant and unaware.
It had been foretold and predicted
by scientists all over the world
for long, fruitless decades.
We would not listen to their stories.
Many millions of mouths opened wide
not understanding the approaching wave
then filled too quickly with water.
They sank into the icy darkness.
Those that remained grew gills,
webbed fingers and toes overnight
remembered how to swim at depths.
Everything is precious in this early light.
A fox shuffles between discarded kebabs,
with shimmering fur, golden and new.
A high-rise, shining, is a forgotten temple.
Glass shards scattered over the pavement
are countless stars, illuminating the tarmac.
Emerald leaves grow from amber branches
to shine on us both, staggering stragglers,
almost home, with the rarest crystals for eyes.
Overnight, this city was built again out of silver,
just for me and you, my sapphire love.
The white cliffs had no end,
edges eaten by cloud,
an invisible sea below.
I think it was New Year
We inched along the path,
lost amongst the static,
all context erased.
I know as we turned back
it grew thick around us,
Speech swallowed into silence.
I think it was two years ago.
Details have become indistinct,
blurred by the inevitable fog.
I am mostly empty,
Ninety-nine percent space.
A rough carbon frame
held up by electricity.
There is no border between
my body and the world.
Dreams bleed out into
the air, leaping sparks
carried by electrons
into continual near nothing
I touch a table and
almost fall through.
In that last fraction
After crossing the vast nothingness,
months trapped in a steel coffin
with inches between us and death,
we crashed into the red dust.
After scrambling out of the air lock,
still protected from the dubious air,
each in our own plastic cocoon,
we crept along the hostile surface.
After setting up our insignificant camp,
the awe set in. We were the first
to cross the darkness, to stand
on a different planet and see the same sun.
After conducting initial experiments,
we walked the perimeter of the crater
Fine, I’m sorry I punched you
hard in the eye just now.
But you walked in front of my fist-
What did you expect?
I’m also sorry for pouring gallons of oil,
and hectares of plastic into the oceans,
transforming the water into poison.
But, really, the fish were too stupid
to protest or even walk on land.
So in a way it’s their fault.
And yes, I’m sorry for setting up
a national surveillance network of
cameras, motion sensors, microphones
thermal imagers, informants and secret police.
He lived his days in monochrome;
grey suit, white shirt, grey tie,
bought in bulk to avoid choice.
At home he watched silent films,
ate powdered mash and white bread,
nothing with too much flavour.
He always yearned for cloudy days,
when detail was muted. Those times
his heart soared, but not too high.
He watched the days disappear,
passing him by like raindrops
sliding down a car window.
They found him on his grey sheets.
A smile, for the first time, on his face
which had turned...