Wednesday, 26 March 2008

The Girl

Grey feathers of fallen thoughts rest upon the floor; the sun watches them becoming old…

Passing people uncaring walk. She, the one with the bright eyes brings one to her breast; the

feather kept – searching the sky hanging. But winds are uncaring… the feather blows, becoming

as lost as the bird that shed it…


But always the girl – that is where home lies.

Sunday, 23 March 2008

Spirits and Spirits

Bizarre mix of bells round my wrist – there are chocolate bunnies, we talk of dying and some think that Jesus was real – Who am I? Who is she? Who are we all? … Our identity – is blurry. Talk of school girls, priests’ strangulation and ghosts. There’s wine and Bacardi with mixers and cigarettes – round the kitchen table. Friends. We play games with dice and words and guess the famous person on our heads. I didn’t know I was the Pope she thought she was Johnny Cash – we are all us, sitting with Minnie Mouse. There was not enough coffee, but lots of tiramisu. I didn’t like lamb but I ate lasagne, she said I was thin. She said she was fat.

Thursday, 20 March 2008


...Slipped by when I wasn't looking.

Tuesday, 11 March 2008

What's in a Name?


… Rymes, rimes, hymes:

All the spellings of 'Rhyme' I have seen today in my lecture…


Tuesday, 4 March 2008

The Strangest of Dreams...

I pick at grains of sand with tweezers in hand and I see a gleaming which pleases my eyes.
Reaching out with an unsteady finger through a ring of flies – proportions contorted – I touch it. I found it. Nerve endings stirred, never more have I cared for something as unknown as this. Smooth with the ridges of a shell, it breathes but does not move. The man on the moon above booms out a voice so loud – that of an angry crowd, he bellows down to me to leave this poor thing be. I look up with a start, shocked that we are so far apart and I say ‘what right have you up there to shout down at me and tell me this thing of beauty I see cannot be touched’ but he has gone and all that’s left is me feeling in the wrong. Again with my tweezers I pick and flick the bits of sand away, when across the bay a lady lay stood up, she sat down walking and in silence she spoke ‘that does not belong to you nor anyone of this earth’
‘But who on earth are you’ I say ‘I found this thing and now it is mine’ and as quick as anything she disappeared and I felt fine. I continued unbothered to pick up my new finding. When all of a sudden its light became blinding and there’s no space now in the sand to hide it. Without sight all I can do now is feel with my greedy fingers in, out and around it. I misstep and fall inside – it’s wet on the walls and it’s soft underfoot and I bet that this was what they were talking about. But without any doubt I carry on walking knowing that my freedom lies on. Hanging strings wrap me up and I am stuck. I fidget, fumble and fling my limbs around as though insanity stole me. And then just like that I’m outside and I can see. I look down towards my feet and there lay lots of pieces of broken coral and pearl.