dream of consciousness

they wake - crawl from their beds - blinking and dusty and dream-soaked - their little hands still clutching the leaves that fell with them as they fell from the dreamtrees - they always fail the climb - they never reach the top

they raise their heavy heads - they look to the sun - hanging bright in every window - brighter in every sky - and wonder if this could be spring - so early in the day, so early in the year

they nod and know that anything is possible in their world - though not necessarily welcome - in their world winter is good, winter is welcome - as who else will wrap them in grey blankets and let them sleep a season away

monument

slowing down the metronome

Im not a sun worshipper, though I can still smile at a sunny summer day. But given a choice I would choose the darkness. Light has its place in my world, but only light that does something special - that works a little harder. Light unusual, light thats lively - maybe moving or changing colour. Light that initiates dialogue - that contributes something of itself to my experience.

‘Bright light does not discover, but drives away beauty.’ Peter Campbell


Sometimes we should sample the delights of blindness imposed by the complete lack of light. Constantly harassed by the demand to see, we are never truly left alone with our thoughts. There is always something to distract and seduce you. Everything burns too vividly, leaving no chance for vague impressions or hinted forms. No chance to use our hands to explore our environment - let alone our sense of smell. No challenge to use our animal nature to find our way home.

(s)train of thought

Sometimes it seems like everything is upside down, and back to front.

We are told that in the beginning there was darkness, until god created light. At our own beginnings there is darkness - in the womb there is no light. Only the sleazy red light of our fathers late night wishes. As we emerge we are thrust into bright white clinical cold reality.

By those who have come close (but not close enough) we are told that death is seen as a light at the end of a tunnel - beckoning. Which sounds strangely similar to being born.

We are confronted with a vision of death from the very start. For most of us it takes about seventy years to realise this.

this strange old sunshine beats me senseless

some songs about light that I like -

• a cleaner light - kristin hersh
• beginning to see the light - the velvet underground
• blue light - bloc party
• blue light - prince
• follow the light - travis
• half light - athlete
• in this light - david usher
• light my fire - the doors
• more heat than light - the veils
• red light - the strokes
• there is a light that never goes out - the smiths
• ultraviolet (light my way) - u2

and remembers being small

In much eastern art - a vital relationship plays on the page - where the blank is as important as the mark.

Absence defines presence. Unsaid supports spoken. Silence frames sound.

We need to learn when to stop. When enough is enough. We should allow space for the thing we have created to live and breathe for itself, of itself. We should allow our words to dangle in the air for just a few seconds longer. For the ants to make their own way across the page.

drawn too close and gone in a flash

Space seems a strange place. Things happen differently there.

‘White holes are similar to black holes except white holes are ejecting matter verses black holes are absorbing matter’

Strange - but somehow familiar. A white hole - pouring out confusion, anger, noise and numbness. A blinding bright place of life gone wild. A white riot - too much everything, not enough nothing.

Shes a black hole. Im a white hole. What are you?

no mans land

White


I sleep near.
Dream a whisper -
a breeze
to keep dust at bay.
Wake to watch
and blink away
dark things
that draw close.

I hold my hand.
Still. Around
but not on you.
Shaking -
the slightest thing
could undermine you -
even my breath
from these words.

I’ll hold my breath.
To keep you
the way you are.

I'll sleep in this place

Things that are white - snow, paracetamol, bones, ghosts, lines



Things that should be white - beginnings, clouds, ideas, moon shadows, wishes



Things that shouldnt be white - purity, gold, heat, horses, witches