GONE WITH THE SUN:

A light white in the night dusting cars & fields. A silence
not heard round here since the winter I bought scotch
for the farmer who pulled my car out of a ditch.

(K)

ANY OTHER DAY BUT..:

Sunlight on the fields, not a cloud in the sky, calm in the castle,
peace between the ears.

(K)

INTERNAL COMBUSTION COCOON:

Yeah, so, I get up early, love it. Scrape the ice off the screen,
engine running, heater up full. Build a temporary installation to be
discarded at sunrise. A mobile cocoon, a secret, private place on
wheels. Faces illuminated, red & blue in the glow of dashboard lights.
reliving memories of riding proud & thrilled with Dad in the cab of a
freezing truck before the world woke up – just the two of us,
underscored by radio broadcasts. Surfing the dial, we join another
red-tail snake into the city.

Listening to ‘Moonlit Bang Bang‘

(K)

FROSTY THE NO MAN:

Scrape it off & drive. Heater on, Radio On, sun rising thin
over the horizon. 6am brings fabulous gifts.

(K)

THEM APPLES & THEN SOME:

Yesterday’s rehearsal with a throat that coughed & sputtered
sounded good. All these years & I still don’t get the body I
was given. It can crawl around on it’s knees in the dark,
hacking & sniffing then transform into this deliriously-happy,
articulate gazelle for ninety minutes. Still haven’t found the
exact switch that turns makes it do that, but I think I’ve found
the room it’s hiding in.

(K)

VENUS BIG & LOW:

Sat on the edge of the bed with a throat that doesn’t want to sing,
talking to it softly, rocking, reminding it of our deal. There’s a
clear sky over Essex, beautiful, exciting, thin & white at the
horizon, ultramarine high above us where all the stars have been
cleared away like empties after the party. Just a couple left behind
to watch us with dumb rabbit eyes. Not even the lights of passenger
planes glide to earth transporting company & kindness. Venus waits
behind, stoops low to comfort us.
Somewhere out there, a young deer lies motionless in a ditch,
somewhere a car with a new dent clears it’s throat & migrates
to the station. It’s cold & damp, the sounds of silence with no
collar to turn up, just a t-shirt & a clock ticking on the bedside
table. Shuffle around the bedroom in the dark with only memory & the
light of an unborn day to navigate by. I don’t want to flick the
switch this morning. Want to hold on to the sanctuary of sleep for
as long as possible.

(K)

FROM 5TH FORM TURNTABLES TO THE STREETS OF BERLIN:

Didn’t see it coming/saw it coming. The weirdest day, a catalogue
of wrong turns, dropped & broken things shiver in the freeze.
Words are impotent, stupid, stand in the corner! The radio plays
tunes on a loop, wall-to-wall like war was just declared.
A dark, damp stillness pervades. I’m coming down with a fever.

(K)

BLACKDOG GONE:

I keep three radios in the bathroom, each tuned to a different
station. The first is tuned to 5Live, it’s been my go-to station
for years. The conversation is fast, informed & balances the
daily dark-stuff with some intelligent irreverence. The Second
is tuned to Radio 4, a station that never goes on in the week
before 9am, a period when the obsession with horror & dark-stuff
rains supreme. After 9am it’s my favourite daytime station, but
never before nine in the week! The third radio I’ve started tuning
to BBC Radio 2. This is my new pre 9am go-to station weekdays,
since I stumbled on Chris Evans’ relentless positivity. The music
mostly doesn’t do it, but Chris’s delivery dispels all darkness,
the perfect antidote to a head like mine pre porridge.

This morning, I tried radio 4. The choirs of the morning service
make a sound I like, but not this morning – ‘click’. I didn’t feel
like a round-up of weekend sport, so I passed over 5Live & turned
on the radio tuned to 2. Instantly Nina Simone starts singing,
‘Here Comes The Sun’ – Bingo! Blackdog gone.

(K)

FAST WIRES RISE SINGING:

Fast wires rise from the jacket to the head, singing in the ears.
Garland of electric roses, halos of the curious, a kiss not meant
to be seen, a sucker for a 60’s sound. It’s cold out there, warm
in here, someone turned the light, the heat on. Considerate for our
benefit before we even got out of bed. Watch the world, see the
animals, mountains of dirt where machines dig themselves a hole.
See the flood, birds floating content in the midst of suffering.
See smoke rising from longboats resting in marinas lined with
derelict trees waiting for the miracle. Towers of brutish wood
piled on scrubland, define the edge of cities. Black metal glimpsed,
concealed in weeds, watches us, quietly rusting, silently rubbing
it’s self out.

Listening to Lake Radio

(K)

EARLY BEFORE EARLY:

It’s raining red on a wet cocoon. Electric squeals, flashing light.
Radio, surfing, announcer interrupt the music. Fog on the inside
of the glass, the head. Wing mirrors fall off wings, can’t look back.
Guess what’s following behind? Keep all conversation light.
Enjoy the ride.

(K)