notebook coffee fingers flicker
ballpoint scribble absent liquor
comrades vanish doonas beckon
On the cover was a quotation from a play he’ll one day write. To be or not to be. It sounded good, so good he ingrained it in his mind and noted to one day use it at a later time. But then he wondered, if he saw it first on paper and didn’t form it in his mind, then who originally wrote it? He wondered if anyone wrote it or if it was crafted by the Gods on scrolls of parchment and thrown into the world of mortal coils. He didn’t want to read his plays anymore. He wanted to be proud of his future work as work of his own.11 September 2018
Is beauty the same as love? You used to know this answer, but now you’re not sure. You used to know ugliness meant fragmentation, splintering, isolation; you thought beauty was their absence. You’re finding it harder and harder to find that difference. When you knew beauty, poetry came easily to you. When you’ve forgotten it, when you think poetry has an obligation to be more beautiful than silence, you can’t write at all.6 September 2018
if a bear shits in the woods and no-one is around to hear it, then does a bear shit in the woods?
whatever the hell
Everything appears serene until IRON MAN flies through the sky with a loud whoosh! He is distributing fluttering bits of paper from above. The camera pans down to street level, and one of the papers flutters into view. It reads: Wedding of the Century: Bucky Barnes and Captain America in classy italic font.16 August 2018
“Okay, it’s fine. It’s Macca’s, they won’t question my order…uh, hi. Can I get three-hundred and sixty nuggets?”16 August 2018
You haven’t slept in two days because you can’t be bothered going to bed. Walking home at 8am you see things you haven’t seen in a long time: people out for breakfast, old Greek women shuffling to church, parents walking their kids to school, a man in a kebab shop slowly readying a fresh tube of meat. It’s all happening.16 August 2018
Each day I am the gentle road’s uninvited guest.
I give the dirt off the bottom of my shoes in thanks,
And my host lends me its spine to walk.