stochasm (23/May/18)

what’s life but a series of terminal moments with one more terminal than others….
it’s still May… nearly June… half way through the year already… listening to a record from 1980, inspired by hearing a willow warbler in the garden this morning… how did that happen then?… I’m behind the lines, whatever happened to me it’s too late to change now… the clues in the stew, read the floating vegetables as they hubble-bubble-toil-and-trouble… put your left leg out, your left leg in, and with any luck you’ll still be standing… I wrote a thing this morning, now what was it… oh yes… sleep, as elusive as a sheet of sound… … the firmament is far from firm you know, fomenting discontent as it does…
I’d like to end now with a little, idyll, I suppose you could call it for want of a better word though I’m sure there’s plenty, I can’t seem to find anywhere else for it, then I’ll followed by a dramatic pause (re: stage notes)…

catalepsy wakes
flotillas of driftwood
by a nestings of snakes
beside rivers of sticks
where boats fell asleep.

: dramatic pause :

© 2018 robert greig

I went to the moon (22/May/18)

I couldn’t sleep so I went to the moon… and you know, it wasn’t made of cheese, green or otherwise, which actually I’m quite pleased about… nor did I find a man there, in it or otherwise… and that it doesn’t have a dark side, or perhaps does but not in the sense of lightless… it has a far side, a side we never see from here (from here I mean earth)…. and yes, it does have gravity, granted not a lot, but a bit, little bit, just enough to stop all the mice falling off it…… what, it has mice?…… of course it has mice, mice get everywhere, in your attic, behind the skirtings (probably eating woodlice), in the tool shed, and on the moon… so it’s shouldn’t be a surprise, and anyway, who do you think ate all the cheese (green or otherwise) and hence, there’s no cheese on the moon…… so I couldn’t sleep and went to the moon, peeled back the curtain and there is was, or half of it anyway, where the other half had gone I’d no idea, possibly eaten by mice, you know what they can be like when they get peckish though I believe they prefer peanut butter but there most certainly isn’t any of that on the moon, although, who can be sure that if you dig down a bit it might be there under the ground, the core of the moon may indeed be made of peanut butter… mice also are partial to chocolate, milk chocolate seems to be a preference not being as keen on such head-spinners as 80% dark chocolate, which I adore and luckily mice abhor… mostly… but you know what mice are like, when the chips are down, and I don’t doubt for one minute they’d gobble up chips in a heartbeat, they may also tuck in to  a chunk of strong cocoa solids…… so if the moon did has an inside made of peanut butter the mice may well have hollowed out the moon by now, but then again it would take an awful lot of mice to eat all the peanut inside all the moon, would take many a-millennia, at least, and then some, or there’d be one hell of a vast number of mice living there but if there were surely we’d have noticed by now… unless… unless they rarely if ever surface and live most of their lives underground, as can you imagine with so little gravity any mouse popping his head out might float away forever and ever… unless… unless they wore leaded boots like astronauts do, but I don’t think mice are particular good at inventing things like that, or anything, and the thought of mice in space boots almost defies imagination…. the rest of course is all perfectly plausible……

© 2018 robert greig

things that go drip in the night (2/May/18)

ah yes, sleep… sleep… sleep… weather outside is frightful…… sleep… sleep… wailing wind, driving rain… sleep … sleep… one hour…. sleep… sleep… two hours… sleep… sleep… two and a half hours… drip… two and a half hours… drip, drip… two and a half hours… drip, drip, drip, drip… awake… awake… drip, drip… where’s it coming from?… drip… listening… drip, drip… behind the curtain… drip, drip… over there… drip, drip… drippy ghost behind the drapes or… drip, drip, drip… a leak… awake, awake, I crawled from my bed… drip, drip, drip… pulled open the curtains of the sliding patio doors, dark poured in like tar… drip, drip… there is, there is, there is a leak!… just the one, there, but one is enough to drip, drip, drip, drip… tracking along the plastic frame then… drip, drip.. drops in drips onto the wooden step… drip, splash, drip, splash… quick, quick, drip, drip, what to do, what to do, what a to-do… quick, quick… drip, drip… Plumbers Mait!… no, not a friendly plumbers friend, the gooey grey gunk used for sealing all things plumbing surely works on drips, even drip, drip, drips… drip, drip… will have to do… drip, drip… now well gone 1am… wailing wind, driving rain… quick, quick, wipe it dry, wipe it dry, quick, quick, spread it thin then spread it thick, gooey gunk along the seal, the leaky seal that drips, drips, drips, where the rain is sneaking in to drip, drip, drip, drip… awake… awake… one hour… awake… awake… one and a half hours… done, fingers-crossed, no more drip, drip, drip… for now… one hour… awake…. two hours… awake…. two and a half hours still awake… imagining the drip, drip, drip when there is no more drip, drip, drip… listening… stop, listening… listening… stop listening… no drip, no, drip, no drip… two hours later woke having slept not barely two hours… did I?…. worse for wear, who knows… awake… awake… light floods in like gooey grey gunk… no linger wailing wind, no longer driving rain but rain there is though less antagonistic and less, drip, drip, drip…. it held, the gooey gunk held… for now… meanwhile I’m awake, a man of little sleep, bleary-eyed in need of tea and hope the drip, drip, drip will keep… for now….

© 2018 robert greig