the unknowable transforming point 136/ 140

433 little poems
fictive autobiographical gazing
through the piano looking glass

Sink link

Little ants march april may
it was an attempt at consideration
but largely self motivated
to put the idea out of my mind
the mind sifter sift
accessible sift
weight and everything
too much obsession
leave it to the smart flying backwards
to catch the back wind air from another planet
sink link
let the car drive off
till I have to turn another page

Unwish my dreaming head

The piano now in the soft tones and tunes
by and by leading lead forward
it’s all in the name
let it lunge capricious
to unstop
simultaneous wishes unwish dreaming head
unwish my dreaming head
the day coming to a close
the close of a long day


White door
pink door
black door
why should this story song be better than any other
run to the window eye
not back in the room where would I have been
if not for the little concerts in my piano
the practise for various performances
again again this phrase has to say something
how this
what’s that
it all means listening
listening for meaning
creating meaning

Play a little sweelinck

Been there before
no no play a little sweelinck
not again
now play a little sweelinck
and make peace with the sounds
trying to make peace with the there
voices heard
put some senselessness in
inside the past operations
and newest sounds of unravelled centre
and chinks of connectedness
a chink connects itself
as light emerges
it’s just a page of white
it’s just a shade of light
a chink
it’s somewhere in a time
when I am repeating myself
I can’t keep hold of the thought of her anymore
I know she’s there
but my inside has overflowed
and the baby
some infant
has gone out with the bath water
was she offspring
am I offspring
am I actress
am I doll
am I fluorescent
am I
am I that
am I here for someone
her elseness
am I thinking about
it could have been different
I could have been wiped out
wiped out
currently returning from wipe out inksmell

The policewoman a blonde

Quiet street facing window grey sky
someone closed a door
a soft murmuring movie sound from upstairs
boy racer rumbling speed through town
cracking engine
the car got stolen that’s what
bad sign
downhill after that
£500 and repairs
all because
was it because
was it fair
was it really such a strange evening
was the policewoman a blonde
was I panicking
what was that all about
oh I know let’s just say nothing more about anything
jigsaw pieces get lost



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