Years ago, after I had known her a few weeks we walked on the heath.
I foolishly agreed to carve the words SHE and I and FOREVER on a tree.
I already had my doubts about her suitability as a muse, so spent the day searching out the tree nearest death. Just in case. I found and chose an old horse chestnut, it's leaves blighted and yellowing.
I carved 'she and I forever' on its elephant bark.
I returned to the tree alone this autumn and found the tree fallen and decaying. My carving obliterated by rot.
Wednesday 30 September 2009
Sunday 27 September 2009
The muse gone
The muse has gone back to her garden
she has put on her don't mess with me boots
She has put away her fuck me shoes
The muse has gone back to her roots
she has put on her don't mess with me boots
She has put away her fuck me shoes
The muse has gone back to her roots
Polanski, Orson Welles and cheese
So the Swiss have seen fit to arrest Roman Polanski on a 31 year old US warrant.
Would they be the same Swiss who have been protecting, and profiting from, Nazi war criminals as well as genocidal dictators for decades?
Orson gave me a swiss cuckoo clock when I helped him get over his vertigo for the big wheel scene in the Third Man. That bloody clock broke after three weeks.
Swiss cheese is tasteless drab and a waste of space.
Sums up the Swiss in general...
Bed bound with Ginsberg.
I am bed-bound.
My back, already twingeing for days, finally seized up in the night; it is too painful to move, or to cough, or to roll into another position.
Fortunately I have, beside the bed a bottle of Perrier water and a Kilo of dates. Unfortunately I have, beside the bed Allen Ginsberg's journals(1954-1958).
It is a perfect autumn day and the bed is perfectly still and I have all the time in the world to think of times past when the same bed would rock with laughter, with joy. Or would rock like a schooner at anchor in a long easy swell.
I have no muse here to nurse me or nurse here to bemuse me.
The perfect occasion to write an Haiku on stillness and calm.
I cannot reach pen and paper.
My back, already twingeing for days, finally seized up in the night; it is too painful to move, or to cough, or to roll into another position.
Fortunately I have, beside the bed a bottle of Perrier water and a Kilo of dates. Unfortunately I have, beside the bed Allen Ginsberg's journals(1954-1958).
It is a perfect autumn day and the bed is perfectly still and I have all the time in the world to think of times past when the same bed would rock with laughter, with joy. Or would rock like a schooner at anchor in a long easy swell.
I have no muse here to nurse me or nurse here to bemuse me.
The perfect occasion to write an Haiku on stillness and calm.
I cannot reach pen and paper.
Thursday 24 September 2009
Monday 21 September 2009
Lost shoes, Heads and penny loafers.
'Heads' writes:
Two shoes lost in the Herault, surely a pair!
Funnily enough one was a blue espadrille bought on impulse but much too large, the other a penny loafer, well polished, that I stole from a ships captain for the penny. In fact I didn'y lose the shoe, I threw it off the bridge to hide the evidence.
I gave the penny to a beggar with a bloodied and bandaged child... She had borrowed the child from an agency that specialised in that kind of thing.
She put the penny towards buying a shoe from her one legged husband.
I should have just given her the shoe.
I didn't Know.
Two shoes lost in the Herault, surely a pair!
Funnily enough one was a blue espadrille bought on impulse but much too large, the other a penny loafer, well polished, that I stole from a ships captain for the penny. In fact I didn'y lose the shoe, I threw it off the bridge to hide the evidence.
I gave the penny to a beggar with a bloodied and bandaged child... She had borrowed the child from an agency that specialised in that kind of thing.
She put the penny towards buying a shoe from her one legged husband.
I should have just given her the shoe.
I didn't Know.
Stalked
I am being stalked by the coolhunter
How cool is that
She is good
she frightens death
and chills out hell
She can stalk in high summer
without working up a sweat
she can stalk on the ice pack
invisibly
while casually clubbing seal cubs
She can stalk you at truck stops
at Soho house
she is just too cool to be noticed.
Except by Phil Spector
And she dealt with him.
How cool is that
She is good
she frightens death
and chills out hell
She can stalk in high summer
without working up a sweat
she can stalk on the ice pack
invisibly
while casually clubbing seal cubs
She can stalk you at truck stops
at Soho house
she is just too cool to be noticed.
Except by Phil Spector
And she dealt with him.
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