another sunday morning, up before dawn trying to be more than a dim receiver the signal arrives a little stronger some days more than others but it doesn’t come at all if I don’t seek it out on a pavement somewhere early on a Sunday morning at the very least. »
some days it’s just out of reach i’ve never slept with the television on but i’m drawn to songs that mention doing so some days it’s just out of focus i thought i loved doing this thing but it’s falling from my empty hands i’m waiting for the what’s next I can’t catch it but at some moment it’ll kick me just when I’m not looking. »
managing to leave in my preferred time-period I avoided the brutishness of peak-hour public transport and found my calmest moment: standing in the kitchen cat underfoot cooking an unadventurous but not too unhealthy dinner for one in absolutely no hurry whatsoever. »
somewhere in the depth of my evening despair I figured I should go for a short walk to buy some cat food if nothing else. my spirits rose when I remembered that they’d probably have Marmite back on the shelves and so it was: I now have something tiny, black and sticky to look forward to for breakfast tomorrow. I am ever-grateful for small mercies they keep me alive »
so much death in this suburb a crow and later, a cat in messy piles beside the relentless traffic a little later, though, a short gust of poetry lifts my sprits. »