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Napowrimo 2020 Day 30- Burn
I expect these days to fade like
photographs left on a windowsill.
That's the hope. The numbers will
blur, the weeks will drain of detail
and colour and I will be left with
outlines and vague shapes, glimpses
of faces in the washed-out clouds,
voices speaking through the hiss.
Napwriomo 2020 Day 29- Fragment
Today my mind is like confetti thrown
to the wind, like a website with every
space filled with adverts, all flashing
for my attention, like a river delta
as hundreds of tributaries race towards
the ocean. Do you understand? It's like
I've drunk ten espressos and all I can hear
is the thumping house beat of my heart or
like I am dust in the depths of the galaxy
not yet ready to coalesce into planets.
You must know what I mean. It's like I'm
a beam of light shot through a prism,
or my thoughts are cryptic crossword clues
or I'm a CRT television stuck between
channels, half images looping back over
themselves. What I'm trying to say is
I'm like a lizard darting across hot
sands, it's like I'm caught in a washing
machine near the end of the cycle, like
I've become a comet entering the atmosphere
before inevitably burning, disintegrating,
becoming nothing more than fine ash rain.
Napowrimo Day 28 - Guilt
The sky is a confusion of clouds
whereas just yesterday you could
see the galaxy spin. We are out
of coffee once again, the internet
is often on the blink and helicopters
are swarming day and night in hives.
The oceans are swelling, drowning
small coastal towns. The years are
now dandelion seeds in a gale.
I blink. Ten more have flown away.
Napowrimo 2020 Day 27- Serenity Study
After Solmaz Sharif
Napowrimo 2020 Day 26- We Are Mostly Empty
As we tumbled through the void,
everything was calm and peaceful
if you ignored the constant drone
of spycraft. The air was pink
electric and crackled with potential
Napowrimo 2020 Day 25- Some Advice
I wouldn't open that door if I were you.
Last year I stored the Atlantic ocean
behind it, stuffed it into every corner.
I only just managed to close the latch.
If opened, the room will fill with brine,
the house as well, the streets of this
sea-level town all submerged and we will
sink down to rest on the carpet below.
Napowrimo Day 24 - Ripples
"It's been a while," the water whispers
as I enter, inch by inch,
"but what's a few million years between
friends? I know why
you abandoned me for land. I forgive you"
Napowrimo 2020 Day 23- Erasing
"I know how this goes!" I say to no-one
as light starts to intensify, obliterating
all detail. Trees will become indistinct
shapes in the mist, never coalescing
into objects. The grass will flicker
with blue fire sparks, but that will
be the least of my problems. Walls,
so dependable and solid, will become
transparent as the hungry light feeds.
Napowrimo 2020 Day 22- An Argument
The sky sulks.
Fresh insults rumble,
shadows hide,
small drops fall,
before the clouds start shouting
curses, throwing rain.
Napowrimo 2020 Day 21- Confessions
I know they have secrets to spill,
given everything they've witnessed.
I've tried different approaches,
asking "How are you?" directly or
"Did you see the game last night?"
as an icebreaker. They never respond,
remain stubbornly shy. Perhaps
I have not found the right topic.