Category: #SOCS
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15 Sept: Journal of Thoughts
A Stream of Consciousness We are a small village on the edge of a larger one, with an ancient forest standing mute as moss between the city-folk and us, and an Anglo-Saxon church whose bells fill Sunday with a provincial air beside a field thick with bracken that sheep chew to the root every winter…
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10 September: A Haibun SOCS and RDP
The Water Back then, the village pond was for washing work horses. A few years ago someone put carp in there. And the pea soup came, a peculiar kind of dark downward vegetating mush and grass that pressed against the fish. It sucked the oxygen out the water. The carp floated to the surface like…
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3 September: for RDP and SOCS (trigger warning)
Choices I.A man walks into a forest. Climbs an oak tree, ties a rope around a branch, then around his neck. And jumps. He chooses not to think about who finds him. II.A vicar lights a candle. Chooses a prayer for a boy he once gave first communion. He tells a mother her son cannot…
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5 August: #SOCS Pick a Number
05.07.23 Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Pick a Number Does anyone remember Bo Derek? She was a 10. I’m not; I am a 9. That’s my number. It’s a numerology thing, nothing to do with hokus pokus, numbers I mean, actually numbers are my potrzebie. Do you know that word “potrzebie”? My best and truest friend,…
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27 May: Saturday Stream of Consciousness
A Stream of Consciousness Behind A Poet’s Window Standing at the kitchen sink. Behind a window with blinds. I feel a bit camouflaged. A bit aloof. The view is timeless. Nothing much changes around here, except that the neighbour’s boxwood plant is dying. It’s going bald like Stanley Tucci. I wouldn’t mind Tucci cooking a…
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21 May: SOCS – A Cadralor Poem
To Gordes, France: A Cadralor Poem I.Listen, and you’ll hear the chiselled skinof buildings. Tight as a drum. Pick upa stick, and beat out a long ago rhythm. II.Listen to moonlight, it’s silver to dream.Meadows of sky stirred by a stick. Thoseold things, those wild things on the move. III.Listen to the slow lines of…
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7 May: For #SOC Childhood’s Song (revised)
The Ants Go Marching One by One The morning after the night thatDad got up in the middle of the nightto piddle in an empty Heinz beans tin, obviously, away from our new tent that he’d bought it at discount price becauseit was missing a support pole and pegs,but never mind about that because Dad…
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12 March: Rough Sleeping Since
Sleeping Rough Ever Since It was a Saturday, and Adam was having one of those stream of consciousness thingies. Like a dream, but not. He’d returned to paradise. Had a small blot hole right on the beach. Maybe a little caravan, or an RV in need of cheap repair, like in those advertisements that fill…
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5 March: Stream of Consciousness Saturday
Captain Ahab It’s getting cold, and it’s raining again, and the one-legged pigeon is stood like a moody hiss on the gutter, staring in the frosty window at me as I crunch on toasted raisin bread. This bread’s been in the freezer for about a year, about the same time as when I named that…
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25 February: #SOCS The Bus Stop
Give That Girl A Prize … several people already waiting for the 11:10 bus into town. A husband and wife with two gaunt dogs on leads; several kids – why aren’t they in school, and two tall men tilting on their walking sticks. I must try to recreate those two using AI art. A teenage…
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