Thursday, 14 July 2016

From a Clock Tower

- The bins fill up faster these days.
- Baby pigeons sound like death in a head.
- Bells are bigger from the inside.
- When a bluebottle flops in from the gap at the back door then summersaults out the open window, the glass of milk I've just poured imagines itself a mead hall.
- Grendel ran off to South Shields because all the bags of fish and chips laughed.
- Present tense is allergic to ribbons.
- Someone's mam spills a pan of jam in the graveyard.
- Apples aren't the only fruit, but they grow jealous pips.
- When all the innie belly buttons sing, the sky invents stick insects and the spokes of umbrellas.
- The tap's dripping again. Drip-dip. Drip-dip.
- The pews in the church react to the postman so the psalm books rebel.
- Words are wonky and I still haven't met a parsnip that knows what I'm talking about.
- My teeth dream themselves comets.
- Somewhere behind a piece of chipped glass there's a grommet I picked from the ear of a flying whale. It smells of Tartar sauce.
- Legs on dead chickens look like love.
- Cardigans around the skeletons of buried dogs do too.
- Love is fluent in Doctor Who but it never opens its mouth.
- When the cat bangs on the window, the leaves of the Rowan frown.
- A little bit of port in a bottle doesn't understand the depths of the oceans.
- There are three hedgehogs on the cup of life. Lips love prickles.
- Last night's moon sent out an event invite but only the cows responded.
- I'm still waiting on a live video of Socks Murphy walking into a pub with a gaggle of angels singing on his shoulder that it's all been a darkly unnecessary joke.
- If commitment is measured in pokes, I'm already three thousand bruises ahead.
- Whoever says stream of consciousness is dead doesn't understand the Frankenstein Effect.
- It's July again, the time in the tower is ticking.
- I was a midge once, down the woods. A kid with a camera took my photograph and swore I was a fairy. So I bit her.
- I bit her and bit her. Fairy teeth in midges can hurt too.
- Strawberry seeds are nebulas when you squint from behind the right pair of eyes.
- Delicate little gems turn feral on the stems of hacked off unicorns.
- Gravestones chat in Braille, the magic of moss conversing with clouds.
- I once adored a girl that had worms, such a wriggly thing.
- I always get stuck on barbed wire fences when I obsess about boys.
- Hares have history the way Neville's Cross has history.
- When I grow old, I'll turn into a fox and the swift in my heart will weep for the ending and dive into the Top Pond.
- Sometimes a tree can be bigger than God with Its four brothers.
- I am infatuated with books and a wild man that knows the language of mountains.
- Monoglot makes me think of clarts and pits and running barefoot through meadows.
- I believe in the ebb and flow of folktales, how the tides can feed the myths of science. The seas of a tear duct never forget.
- There's a spook in the Clock Tower. An always twisting creature that turns the hands of time as it ticks. Its mouth with its teeth, gnashing. Gnashing TickTocks all day. All night.
- Radiators hold dragons prisoner, that’s why they boil in winter.
- I have an army of spiders in my hoover because I can be horrible like that.
- The Lady of Shalott sometimes sits on my settee eating Maltesers while she mends my tapestries.
- Delusions can be delicious, like lust swinging from lampposts.
- I like the dark, how it tempers shadows. I read once that everything someone loves can fit into the shape of Peter Pan’s shadow.
- I cut things out according to this, but his silhouetted elbow is always a difficult shape to fill.
- There’s a man with Red Kite wings that could have had me whenever he wanted. But he always preferred the straight lines of citie to the twisted ways of woods. In time, he’ll abandon love for kerbs. But the bumping that chases him will never stop.
- Today’s sky is a blanket that cuts out holes to let police helicopters through.
- People try to die in cornfields. That’s why Van Gogh favoured wheat.
- The crows return to the roof with stories in their mouths demanding I unthread them.
- These lines don’t make sense, I know.