FOX THEATRE OAKLAND:

Can’t find porridge, what’s that about?

(K)

1st FRIDAY COACHELLA:

Here come the white vans, numbered. Tinted glass, air-con, shades
& beards. Sleepless drivers, return rentals dressed in washed-out
black. Face pressed up against cool stone for kick-start, sheltering
from a cruel sun. A Lycra woman moving weird & fast. Growling
flat-bed pulls away. A familiar face, a London accent, chance
encounters at random hotels. Lives in bags on wheels, triple ‘A’.
Fully blacked-out ground transporters pull away slow, snakes
concealing messengers tossing coins into ornamental pools.

Took in a brilliant show at Frank’s Place last night. Dinner &
‘A class’ entertainment. He never dropped a beat nor fluffed a note.
Kept the whole show rolling alone for hours & knew exactly what his
audience wanted. Thanks for inspiration Frank. You have no idea
how much you lifted us last night.

Tonight I dedicate the show to Big Terry who passed away in the
early hours of this morning. He was my dear friend & guide, a man
of very little material wealth yet the richest man I have ever met.
Terry never let me feel alone no matter how far from home I was,
he would call to check I was ok & make sure I was getting connected
to the light.

(K)

POMONA:

A conference of breakfast suits, the hot, the bitter, the juicy.
Line of two-piece hunts potato. Bird Woman builds fruit mountain,
wrapped in chalk & silence. Bottle blonde, the stick.
Awake! Invigorate! Voices from the far side. Emotion, managed
in messages. Feel the pain transmitted. The antidote is love.

(K)

MIRROR HANGING IN A BUSH:

Empty chairs wait for occupants. Dust, a table top, the heat of
afternoon sun. Geranium & orchid shelter in shadow amongst
wind chimes & silence. Familiar clothes discarded on chairs
wait for limbs. Innocence, palms, festoons of lights for night
twinkles. A voice inside a house, barely heard – you-know-who.

Howlin’ Wolf – ‘I Asked Her For Water (She Gave Me Gasoline)

(K)

LOAD UP, SWEETEN YOUR DAY:

Two-dog sidewalk, Motherwell window, Walk in silence,
avoiding contact, duration. The boys with the badges
arrive in pairs, under the watch of bug-eyed shades &
a Kung-fu bandana. Chilli-dips, free re-fills, grad-A honey.
Big boys in the back booths, ancient hippy basketball giants,
move slow, caffeine heavy, strawberry jello, eggs with everything.
Old man in an Iron Maiden t-shirt smiles at the waitress
in black & white.
More blue boys arrive. Pandas cascade, couples hold hands,
park heavy machines in sunlit parking lots.
Gratuity nation, 24/7

(K)

LEAVING ESSEX:

Gets harder.

(K)

PEANUTS FOR WILD BIRDS:

Trapping sunlit song, distant wheels hiss. Roads between fields.
Sunday scramblers, two-stroke, fresh cut grass, dirt, dust.
Bees stitch territorial birdsong as the wild herd lays down
in ploughed fields.
Mom’s in the loft, cataloguing history. A phone-call remembered.
Childhood on a map, streets cleared for progress. Photographs.

(K)

MR 1985:

A fast Rose tattooed on the back of his hand turns to camera
& smiles. A notorious life for money. Slim fit, new hair
held up to the light. The thrill, the face, the t-shirt.

(K)

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE:

Red Man, green man in the rain crossing to the other side.
Men on the roof reversing trucks into history, time wrapped around
their wrists. Men covered in dust, smoking cigarettes in doorways,
typhoons on their backs. Men whistling in the dark, attaching
bird-wires to windowsills. Strolling man, hands in pockets,
the weight of the world. Fast man, tiger tucked underneath an arm,
striding into town. A man leaves his mark in the street.
Meditation, undisturbed, phone left ringing.
Alarm calls. Handy-work

(K)

JANE, THE ELECTRICITY:

Night stands back when you enter the room.
Fresh, considerate, crack-on, a tenner for two fives.
Close as it’s gonna get, the half of everything.
Moves on rainbow feet, a chocolate twist leaves the room
talking to a hand.
OK darlin’?

(K)