Everything
Is happening
Everywhere
All at the same time
And it is doing so
In silence
Except for
The sound of my breathing
And
The sound of my wife reading
And turning the pages of her book
The universe
Having a human experience
The big bang
Now
Is making no noise
And me and my wife
Quietly
Made that happen
On Sunday morning
Tag Archives: Space and Place
Lost in Space
Where are we in cyberspace?
Step out of a door
And the world is indifferent
Birds fly by
Plants ignore me
The clouds move on
To some other place
Even my neighbours
Beyond ‘Good morning’
Turn and go to work
But is cyberspace
I am surveilled
Somebody, somewhere
Has spotted me
Already
All I did was click a link
They do not strictly
Know who I am
But they surveil what I do
In their space
I am in their server
I am in their hard drive
I am in their database
I am in their algorithm
And they are in me
Cyborg me
Sell me
Something for me
Me, me, me
They want us to be me
Many me’s
Lost in space
They want to show us the way
To pay
Our way
Through their cyberspace
Weekenders
New to the world
Of other people
Weekenders occupy ground
Pavements, or pedestrian crossings,
Supermarket aisles
You see their smiles
Grinning joy
At being out
Of the house.
A week of Radio 4 or Greatest Hits Radio
It is endless
Daytime TV and Quiz Shows
Winning contestants and
Product placements
It has in parts
Made them sad
Or driven them mad.
A mind-numbing, spirit-crushing
Internal world
Externalised now
“Free at last, free at last!”
For it is the weekend
They occupy
‘The Outs’
(As prisoners say of release)
And they see at last
And they are at last, in it
In the outs
They have come out.
It is a big step.
The newbie joy
Is uncontained
Expressed as enthusiasm
For
The sun
The space
The pace at which it all unfolds
The chance to buy things and put them in
The bag
The trolley, on
The till, in view of all
The other people buying too
The shoppers they never normally meet
The opportunity to greet
The community we have
To consume
The world.
New to the world
Of other people
Weekenders stand their ground
We are here at last again.
Walking in the City
For all walkers
In the city,
People walk.
Edinburgh, The Fringe.
A tide had not just turned,
But ran,
Or rather walked.
People, like tidal water.
Unstoppable.
And unlike water,
Where two flows meet,
Making mayhem,
Sunken boats and
Wrecks,
Space was made for everyone.
One way, AC/DC fans
Pointed the way to the venue.
The other way,
A mixture of
People, once arrived, we assume
From many boats.
A deep diversity
Seemed
To go deep down,
And also spread
As a surface
Of calm.
A dozen different languages
In a dozen minutes.
People had all come somehow
From somewhere.
Not here,
But here, no difference.
In the city,
We all walked.
What are the Jackdaws Up To Today ?
They are up to something
They normally form sentences
The doubled black dots
Of pairs of birds in flight
The double double comas
Of speech marks
“This is my wife”
“Here is my husband”
“My trouble and strife”
Now
Some
Thing
Is happening
Solitary birds
Are in the sky
Now words and sentences
Are reformed
Like the sentences
Of the surreal poets
Nonsense yet
Not nonsense
Making some sense
Some how
To someone
But not quite yet
Sometime soon
The standard sentence
Will return
Language structure
Restored
Recursively
Reassembled
New oaths
New troths
New ways
Of being together
So watch
And listen
One series
Of a corvid soap opera
Ends
And new dramas unfold
Scandal and intrigue
For you to behold
Turn on
Tune in
Check it out
Same time
Same place
Next week
Get the gossip
A new chapter begins
Spaced Out
Why does some space fit
And some does not?
Like a pair of shoes
Or gloves
Or a hat
That are the right size
On paper
But just do not fit
In person
Whilst bigger
Than shoes, gloves and hats
Some rooms can be the same
A hotel room
May be small
But a perfect fit
Yet a bigger room
Chafes
Rubs you up the wrong way
You cannot settle
You long to leave
One room full off people
Makes you all at ease
But put the same people
In another room
And people fidget
They pace
Ill at ease
But put me outdoors
Or let me simply
Stare out a window
And space disappears
Or at least a sense of being in it
The way your are in
A pair of shoes
Or gloves
Or a hat
I know the space is there
But i forget i am in it
Because it fits
Some rooms constrain my soul
The lack of a room
Liberates it
Outdoors spaces
Fit me
Un Biblioteca
A good resourse
Moving Space 