Where are you as you read this? Sometimes I forget you’re there.
Three walls of glass surround me, to my left a flat blue grey milk
stretches out above the Northern fields. In front, to the East,
sunrise turns the milk Peach & Cream. To my right, it’s already
daylight & serious, needs to get a sense of humour – a towering
backdrop looms above the trees to the South. I slept like an ancient
leviathan last night, deep in a crack at the bottom of the ocean.
Dreamed a throat as sore as bracken. Woke up with a sore throat,
run down with flu knocking on the back door.
Riding the steely twins West into Emerald City, bag packed, hotel
booked, a pocket full of memory sticks to show & tell the world
what artistry & madness has been scratching out here in the fields
through Summer – trains already disrupted by a microbe on the line.