Air.

January 21, 2009 at 7:03 pm | Posted in writing | 18 Comments
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There is a constant atmospheric pressure insistently determined to create a sense of smallness. But inside me was an equally constant pressure outward, toward grandness and the large gesture. I wanted to assert that all those names you know, Shakespeare et al, Al who?, Capone?, were mere humans but they did not live in an age where someone had crossed every horizon only to meet someone else crossing in the other direction.

It was the urge to create not merely repeat. As a young man I mistook it for destiny and then in my middle age for arrogance. This sentence should start with the word ‘now’, as in, ‘Now I…’ He coughs. The nurse is from the Philippines.

I thought it was about attaining immortality, not so much a fear of death more a dread of not existing, and as a consequence forgetting to remember would be an invaluable skill. I discovered the complete unreliability of memory. She complains that I should only push the red button if I cannot breath at all but I like to watch her walk away. I had a dog. It died as all dogs do.

There is a constant atmospheric pressure, he coughs again reaches for the oxygen mask. The nurse is from the Philippines, “Still breathing, old man?” as she checks his chart. I liked to watch her walking away.

consorting with the enemy

October 31, 2008 at 6:38 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 14 Comments
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for which the sudden penalty is death
just for a short while, Squires, she says
slow down you move too fast you gotta
a small bird twittering between your beating heart
and floating ribs

he coughs, the nurse looks up
from her Romance novel,
you’re bloody lucky old man,
she says and smiles

and your time has come and lifts
the pillow your time has come
right now,

Horrible dreams at warp speed.

October 23, 2008 at 6:49 pm | Posted in writing | 10 Comments
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After effect of the Morrison-Huxley Effect but regains his land legs quicker these days. One of my fondest memories from childhood was H R Puffenstuff which makes me wonder how these things work out so perfect since I work in H R and I smoke a lot.

Shedding some awful suit, many times I’ve said that this is never about me. I am a relatively normal bloke average human type of quite normal tastes, ahem, he coughs again. The nurse is from South America. She is in her early forties and a refugee from El Salvador, forced into exile by the inhuman workings of a multinational machine and the CIA since she had a gift for languages and had been in the company of many dying young men possessed of secrets they needed to confess.

It wouldn’t be true to say I love her but when I watch her walking away from this cold bed, I certainly remember having been in love.

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