I have spent the day filling holes in doors, with wood filler that dries to the colour and texture of old toothpaste. The doors – even the bathroom door, when I eventually get that far – are not covered in toothpaste. Thus, the fine finish that had been prepared – in mind’s eye, at least, since the reality is different – is marked by practical and emotional contrast.
Part of the ground is now covered with expletives, and there is DIY regret sprinkled liberally around the house.
The one fan is dead.
Not even these words could sustain.
The normals in the
pound shop
hedge their bets with
masks over
mouths and
noses out, sniffing
the air for signs that
the virus has gone
True protection
the kind that satisfies
comes from
plastics and sugar
the bright colours of
diabetic and sweat-shop delights
distracting
until the world is put right
by discussions online
Dawn had yet to be smashed to bits as I entered the field. The farmer looked at me, as surprised as the cow to which he was tending, as I ran from, then back to, the path. Can’t wake the rest of the creatures. Besides, over in the distance I could see a man walking his dog, so there was little time left to make good my escape.
Waking fills me with the horror of being
Over in that place, I still have a house that I bought a long time ago when I still thought I was immortal. More recently it was planned as my eventual retirement solution, but repairs followed by a collapse in the pound* means it will be on the market come December. Treat yourself, for Christmas.
*The amount of pounds in my wallet have collapsed because of various repairs, taking with them my patience to continue.
Night hides in
its own shadows
as
birds,
shouting above
gales
and howling trees
voice welcome
to the morn
We walked, yesterday, in the forest. Collected pine cones, and embraced nature until it scratched our faces with needles. The Christmas decorations will again be green and red.
I’d like to assure you
my faithful public, that
I AM NOT DEAD
but
its hard to be certain
and anyway
only God
and doctors
can see inside
The failed meat puppet nests
sat
watched
by a clutter of baggage
haloed by
an
electronic angel
TV’s storied outlines
of what could have been