I’ve seen that reptilian hand dance in the
cold of the shower, when I’m drying myself
and wasting the air with the toxicity of
interruptions. The taps cold and burning,
the reasons to exist still forming in the marsh
at the back of the room. All the walls are just
excuses to leave the city now, Stu, and I don’t
know whether to take a train or walk. Both
are great ways to see the countryside, but
it’s really a question of quality over quantity.
Have you scaled the garden wall yet? Found your
neighbours hive and stole all their honey?
The sickness of my voice makes me shudder,
especially when I try to record the mess I’ve
made of everything and realise life is ok.
– Aaron Kent
Life is at best okay when edged
On either side by what was once
The possible so fast become
The comforting lineaments of doom,
The cracks that rise out of the earth
To shock and stun, allow for us
To witness this apocalypse of fact
Unharnessed and alighting once again—
It’s like the difference between a lawyer
And a barrister, we register the present
Through a different lens
On account of our furious knowledge
Of how close so many other worlds were
And are, though may not be as things
Continue to advance, in fact spread out
Break up in coldly distances of time.
It all sinks in across the gap
The train leaps over reaching out
Expanding tracks divert our course
But still we cannot even see
The open road, that lonely tree
There standing in the periphery
Of our so rapid flight for and against
The currents of the denser dreaming force.
– Stu Watson