One million elephants couldn't begin to understand » 2012 » January

Archive for January, 2012

Tuesday, January 31st, 2012

 

We are waiting for the raft to arrive

and for you to bring chocolate.

 

How does the weather seem to you?

 

When a cascade of floral tributes lands at your feet

is it because they think you are gone forever?

 

We are waiting for an announcement

and then we can begin to enjoy ourselves again.

Monday, January 30th, 2012

 

In the short-term –

a swallow-dive

on to the isle of excuses.

 

The glitter of a blue-eyed boy

bamboozling on the coast.

 

A denizen of this ancient land.

Sunday, January 29th, 2012

 


On the Road
is nothing but an aimless ramble backwards and forwards across the United States of America by the least likeable bunch of no-goods one could hope (never) to come across. Your author can remember being forced (yes, forced) to read the blasted thing at university (no doubt my most informed readers will know which university), and he was then expected to write something critical about it. That was the easy part. My criticism was that all the leading characters with the exception of perhaps one male and one or two of the females were the most no-good bunch of scoundrels and layabouts one could imagine, and they all needed a good smacking with a piece of two-by-two – preferably one with a hefty nail embedded in its tip. Where I come from the whole lot of them would have been taken out and stood up against a wall and shot – the opportunity of having them drowned at birth evidently having been missed. If it had not been against university regulations your author would have thrown up in a bucket and handed that to his tutor instead of the 3000-word essay that was required.

Barnaby Tage, from 50 Books We Can Do Without (Pulp These Publications, 2009)

Saturday, January 28th, 2012

 

“I will call you in about ten minutes

but you know I have a rubbish phone —

it always powers off for no reason —

if it happens during my call

I will not call again,” she said

as the ghost of Herman Melville

strode down the hillside to ask

“What record is that you’re playing?

It reminds me of Grant Lee Buffalo.”

Friday, January 27th, 2012

 

Lena de Rail sits at the opposite end of the plectrum to Lemon Cohort, for sure, but in a shinier chair. She has a red dress, which she takes off and puts on (or the other way around) and he doesn’t. He has old ideas thought through, burdened and lightened by wisdom. She only has old ideas.

Thursday, January 26th, 2012

 

In the yellow bag is the bowl of oranges Kevin gave you to put into your eyes the day she broke the window that gave on to the pastures where we found Jake face down in the rain.

In  the blue bag is the sleeping fish you visited in hospital and brought out to the bakery to serve as an orderly in a platoon we were assembling to argue for our place in the archives.

In the green bag is the extended version of Pamela’s drawings of how the architecture of  Ancient Rome reminds him of throwing javelins at vultures as we play ball games in the back-yard.

Wednesday, January 25th, 2012

 

Look at my TO DO list:

 

Write a conversation poem (“Talking To Myself Again”)

Write another conversation poem (“Don’t Talk To Me”)

Write a wrong (“I’m a nice person”)

Write a shopping list:

    chicken breast

    sesame seeds

    virgin olive oil

    coffee

    frankincense

    socks

    fresh air

Write until your brain dries up, your arm drops off, your eyes turn into marbles, until every word has been used.

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

 

“The trouble is,” sighed the Doctor, grasping her meaning intuitively, “that youth is given up to illusions. It seems to be a provision of Nature; a decoy to secure mothers for the race. And Nature takes no account of moral consequences, of arbitrary conditions which we create, and which we feel obliged to maintain at any cost.”

“Yes,” she said. “The years that are gone seem like dreams — if one might go on sleeping and dreaming — but to wake up and find — oh! well! perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life.”

 

Kate Chopin, from The Awakening (1899)

Monday, January 23rd, 2012

 

It snowed here

which is a happiness

It’s William’s first time to see the snow

I’m okay

but I want back

Wait for me

Sunday, January 22nd, 2012

 

into the journey-folder

year end and year begin

forfeit and payment time

sunrise

 

complete traveller

time seems to be loitering

empty-pocketed

moon 1% of full