ELEPHANT SLIDE:

Big man rides a chimney up a crowded street. Slow man rings
the bell. “Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah!” The mayor in chains & furs.
Three cornered feathered heads nod in solemn procession.
The choir follow, full throated in festive song, satisfied.
The Donkey & the rider next & the guide in robes as children.
The “oohs & ahhhs” to see such sweet naiveté untarnished.
And close behind, the town undertaker waves from Santa’s
sleigh, pulled by a feared-up reindeer, who’s hooves beat
a groove on the freezing, rain-soaked black-top.
Marking time for a cloud of harlequin drummers.
Cinnamon Apple, Mulled wine, Burger, Fries & Toffee Apple.
Mugs of steaming tea clutched between mittened fingers.

(K)

FUTURE MOUTH:

Typing fast tea, porridge, in silence on the roof of the Emerald City. Later cruising the music shops of Denmark street incognito buying toys for making noise – recognised as someone I used to be. Harvesting words out of the aether for future-mouth to sing.

(K)

CLOUD LIKE A PIG:

“Look, a cloud like a pig with wings!” she said, smiling,
radiant, brighter than the sky. It felt strange to be laughing
after months of tears,driving into sunrise like waking from
a nightmare. There in the car, hands on the wheel for real,
I was a kid again believing pigs really could fly.

(K)

MOON ON A STICK:

A full one floats behind clotted cloud ringed in rainbow hews.
Knuckles & knees freeze, parked up, concealed between the
fields at the edge of town. Flicking between stations,
turning the engine over to reheat exposed extremities.
Tonight the radio sounds best barely audible.
A fluttering on the airwaves between plumes of breath.

(K)

REPRISE:

Weird, waking up with a twinge of the fears. Clear that the head
is somewhere up the road than right here where it should be.
Woke up with them for years. Every day riddled with the stuff.
Been gone for years. Weird to find it here on the pillow as I wake.
What’s that about? One foot & then the other. Love & compassion.

(K)

YOU DO SCRIBE:

Transcribing lyrics from the album for rehearsal.
Eating porridge in the mist at sunrise behind the edge of time.

(K)

ELEPHANT-LESS:

Parked up on a hill overlooking the world to watch the sunrise.
Day-glow runners, lycra cyclists, super-speed machine pollution.
Idyllic vistas clog with violent colours. We sit, with the engine
off watching birds turn circus tricks in the hedge.

(K)

PARKED CAR AS A MEDITATION:

As mornings go it doesn’t get much better. Staggering into the
shower at 07:30 from a late lie-in, storms blasts the house,
rain drumming on the roof. We drove to the supermarket, loaded
the car with supplies, got soaked picking up breakfast at the
cafe & drove to our favourite spot at the head of an old
Roman road between the fields. Then, recreating that magic
moment when my Mom & I parked up to eat fish-n-chips in the 60’s,
we turned off the engine & listened to the rain. Nothing much
to say when the poetry is that good. Rain on the roof of the car,
you with your Chai Latte, me with my porridge & stress falling
off us like the first snow of winter.

(K)

THE MAN WHO LOVED TREES:

Wrote it down when you told me. Put it somewhere it couldn’t be lost.
The name & number of a friend I left at the end of the 70’s.
Do you still have it?

(K)

SURGICAL EXTRACTION:

Trains & alleys in the rain. Toothy cartoon beast dances
in a back street to 80’s disco & the smell of Vietnamese curry.
A long day slow train hang-dog haul out of London to the silence
of the fields. Jump in the car, turn on the radio & drive.
Feel the elephant fall off again.

(K)