Category: #SOCS
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
20 February: SOCS Prefix
Trumpeting A neighbour’s howlingbeagle’sspitting at the sky. It’s a proboscis sound,as if one’s skullis harmonic. But even a howling doghas to waitfor a tree to come by. Written for Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness using a word prefix “Pro”. I’m not sure if this is Stream of Consciousness, but this is what came out of my head.…
-
11 February: Stream of Consciousness Saturday
Leafless The garden.It’s just some wet mud and a magpie that keeps its tail up.There’s an obvious wrinkle in this landscape. Rain dribbles off the gutter, leaves stuck up there.Again.I suppose.Although the trees have been leafless for months. Snowdrops bloomed on Monday,and then slugs nipped the blossoms off the stems.My heart was stabbed by that,it’s…
-
3 February: Stream of Consciousness Saturday
Perfect Timing Time has a perfect view of my life. A clock in the kitchen, well, three actually, the microwave, the oven, and one on the wall that calibrates itself with some radio in Greenwich, a process worth marvelling over, if I cared to. And there’s a clock in the living room, two to be…
-
29 January: Stream of Consciousness
Sunday morning: (304 words) He’s sitting in his brand new car, my neighbour, reading the user manual, I assume, although a moment later I see it’s The Times newspaper. He turns the page, shakes it straight, and folds it into a manageable rectangle. It rests on his steering wheel, and he’s drinking coffee with a…
It's Still Life 