tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53409173708619048312024-03-13T06:47:51.054-07:00FeathermammyThese are the words of Alex Rigg, they are extracts from rehearsal notes, late night thoughts, marketing gibberish and things that couldn't be expressed in any other way.Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-81082719117045728332012-03-18T14:51:00.000-07:002012-03-18T14:51:36.670-07:00Invasive<br />
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I've said it before and I will say it again.</div>
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Spread the word, one step away form hysteria.</div>
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Decide who you are, bunch up in a corner.</div>
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Build an electrical charge: release the word.</div>
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One person on their own and the rest pointing.</div>
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I am a legion.</div>
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One place in your head and another in your body.</div>
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Awoke asleep and slept awake.</div>
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I have my eyes open all of the time,</div>
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it seems that there is light without respite;</div>
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like the radiance from a body that is burning.</div>
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A combustion of thought.</div>
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Projectile language on a dark staircase.</div>
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Arms in the walls.</div>
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Waiting.</div>
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Turning back the wheel.</div>
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There is so little that makes sense and so a little more chaos</div>
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could only confuse.</div>
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I came here uninvited, I will stay at my own pleasure, leave when I choose.</div>
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<br /></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-25991151963685137422012-01-28T06:07:00.000-08:002012-01-28T06:07:21.420-08:00Feather Mammy - A La Deriva<br />
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Legs burning, full of pins; he felt without focus, surrounded by light. There was a tree at his back, solid and magnificent. He had been crouching at its base for some time, he thought. Long enough for the blood to leave his feet and a place to form, a hollow pressed into his back between shoulder-blade and spine where it met the bark. He picked up a leaf from the ground next to his feet and held it up towards a bright place where the sun must be. The veins spread out across its surface like a river delta and between them glowed a deep green. His head was full of noise, of words, sibilance and susurration; thoughts drifted past, turning over slowly, flashing momentarily, dazzling. Water rolled off his head from amongst his hair and disappeared into the cotton shirt at his shoulders. He wasn't sure if it had rained or not. Perhaps he swam. Yes, that was it. He had run, throwing his clothes off and his body forwards into rolling roaring surf. A wave had picked him up and turned him over, pushing his face into stones and shells, pushing the breath out of his lungs. There was a taste of blood in his mouth now from nose or tongue, and salt crystallizing on his brow. He let the leaf fall and watched as it span slowly around the axis of its stalk. The passage of the leaf through the air, its graceful descent, carried with it a veil of unconsciousness. As its saw toothed edge touched earth his eyelashes brushed together.</div>
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<br /></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-13894389592316795322012-01-27T11:42:00.000-08:002012-01-27T11:42:07.944-08:00The Grass Was Dry<br />
<br />
Hay pressed into the book of summer<br />
but reading it now<br />
hard to believe<br />
a fiction in blades.<br />
<br />
The grass here died and lies<br />
indisposed upon the earth<br />
in a suspended reality<br />
between growth and<br />
decomposition.<br />
<br />
This made frame looks down<br />
as if from a great height,<br />
from heaven perhaps,<br />
where judgements are made<br />
because in hell no one cares<br />
enough.<br />
<br />
Hay to hay and<br />
grasses to grasses<br />
life moves fast and<br />
nothing lasts<br />
this grass is dry and<br />
pressed flat so add water<br />
and stand back.<br />Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-88056353671876449762011-05-17T01:23:00.000-07:002011-05-17T01:23:58.068-07:00The Song of the Moon<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I dream of you in endless coils,</div><div class="MsoNormal">My love is an ocean that writhes and boils.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All the waters come to me</div><div class="MsoNormal">All fluid movements seep;</div><div class="MsoNormal">My heart is dry, will always be,</div><div class="MsoNormal">My eye can never weep.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I feel you through my dusty skin,</div><div class="MsoNormal">The liquid moving round within.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ll draw you out you blooded cells,</div><div class="MsoNormal">You bladders, ponds and deep lake stills.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All the waters come to me</div><div class="MsoNormal">All fluid movements seep;</div><div class="MsoNormal">My heart is dry, will always be,</div><div class="MsoNormal">My eye can never weep.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My drought is a muscle a singing wire,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Strung tight between us in lines of desire.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I dream of you in endless coils,</div><div class="MsoNormal">My love an ocean that seizes and boils.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All the waters come to me</div><div class="MsoNormal">All fluid movements seep;</div><div class="MsoNormal">My heart is dry, will always be,</div><div class="MsoNormal">My eye can never weep.</div><!--EndFragment-->Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-88127756783884233272011-04-18T01:00:00.000-07:002011-04-18T13:37:11.313-07:00Lying<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeSd-lBLFEAs79wrJCAgn_OP_qAwTJgpylzNlsD8yNnpd72yn3kUGkWUy3J8zpAtp6a570o4arbXklQS742NAB1bhVy2AtwgAydj7a57k6Zx4vszurbZWNtIp2HwRtOycrs0WShBFbEQ/s1600/Lying.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 58px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeSd-lBLFEAs79wrJCAgn_OP_qAwTJgpylzNlsD8yNnpd72yn3kUGkWUy3J8zpAtp6a570o4arbXklQS742NAB1bhVy2AtwgAydj7a57k6Zx4vszurbZWNtIp2HwRtOycrs0WShBFbEQ/s400/Lying.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596831005393548834" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Ants crawl, but does that word work?</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">They <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">angulate</span> and populate,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">taking determination to a place</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">that only insects can understand.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">If I lie next to them then</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a hundred hundred feet</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">will navigate and assess my</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">nutritional value over body weight.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Tied as I am by shadow I remain</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">and remaining am reminded</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">by bites unnumbered of my skin</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">in all its lined and folded subtlety.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Clothes, perhaps, are worn not for warmth</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">but because without them we might</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">have leather for brains lying</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">in a state of receptive ecstasy.</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-47983671636928787832011-02-12T13:55:00.001-08:002011-02-13T02:04:43.831-08:00Beginnings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7wUpLGNwT_XbPNGGk4syaCJKt6pDkPUKFKrW-Euc_hNkUxNoEmpm8QgQ1u0H8ewtppk69mLKDvBfepGfi1ZZsNik1LPFWE2WGE6Y7KazocLzaCLkbtD9lzVUfX2e9JRrwOe_MGC_kCU/s1600/Tree.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7wUpLGNwT_XbPNGGk4syaCJKt6pDkPUKFKrW-Euc_hNkUxNoEmpm8QgQ1u0H8ewtppk69mLKDvBfepGfi1ZZsNik1LPFWE2WGE6Y7KazocLzaCLkbtD9lzVUfX2e9JRrwOe_MGC_kCU/s320/Tree.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572925323067054498" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-pagination: none;tab-stops:28.3pt 56.65pt 85.0pt 113.35pt 141.7pt 170.05pt 198.4pt 226.75pt 255.1pt 283.45pt 311.8pt 340.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Helvetica;mso-bidi-mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:Helvetica;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-pagination: none;tab-stops:28.3pt 56.65pt 85.0pt 113.35pt 141.7pt 170.05pt 198.4pt 226.75pt 255.1pt 283.45pt 311.8pt 340.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Helvetica;mso-bidi-mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:Helvetica;"></span></p><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Helvetica;mso-bidi-mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:Helvetica;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Walking through the forest with little light,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">eyes on stalks</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">or sunk back into my head understanding that</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">nothing they could do would help.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Slips of white moon fall between clouds and cut down</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">in amorphous blooms that carve roots into portions of abstraction.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">We begin in breathless anticipation</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">of a life's headlong rush into knowledge;</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">young mind open like a flower to receive all understanding.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">At a later time the only thing that becomes clear</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">is that we will never know</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">and however long our petals hold back against inevitable closure,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">we will always be at the beginning and not the end.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Each day I begin again with you and all previous knowledge</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">sheds a small light on the wilderness and wildness.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">We look at one another and our eyes show us only</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">skin, cloth, a movement in the shadows.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">But I am walking through you, however unclear my path</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">and I know that I will find the way. </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p></span><p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-46503174777347458962010-11-29T14:43:00.000-08:002010-11-29T14:49:06.446-08:00Descent<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7eXpZpRtb0usBw747pRa-sQZM7yGVsazTFyWsF1W2-QSXHgDfE5wn2lwMR4_gOth2i-FUC4uByjzye4pvHX_A8kuGCvJM-vXRukGogN0jvatrhAUtH0BVPc8QEWuMAPdzSjvp0G-acc/s1600/red+and+green.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7eXpZpRtb0usBw747pRa-sQZM7yGVsazTFyWsF1W2-QSXHgDfE5wn2lwMR4_gOth2i-FUC4uByjzye4pvHX_A8kuGCvJM-vXRukGogN0jvatrhAUtH0BVPc8QEWuMAPdzSjvp0G-acc/s320/red+and+green.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545107433635234354" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Descent</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">After coming down, after</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">not flying, turning from</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a bird into a man</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">in all realities there was a change</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">at which moment perspectives</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">slid like glass doors or</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">the opening brass tubes of a</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">telescope and in that action</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">I was at once bound to earth</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">and free to soar.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The bird dreamed it was human,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">could not lift clear, drift out</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">across the city roofs and blue sea;</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">but that was a dream and</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">the shell is not yet broken.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The bird is waiting.</p>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-28482605590264750072010-05-11T10:34:00.001-07:002010-05-11T10:36:17.360-07:00Stairs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC97dPJx26wYkBcCcqaTo3R2-Js76Zx9BRrLWfMlO_A3Sxqbe9c5T-gimUqvG48f98bl0J6LlGSDcyAA2Xan36-e6EzLloT6ixJM9z5iyswZGKZKidYAbE8xGN4uuHm88tptqwFO6xaew/s1600/P1030704.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC97dPJx26wYkBcCcqaTo3R2-Js76Zx9BRrLWfMlO_A3Sxqbe9c5T-gimUqvG48f98bl0J6LlGSDcyAA2Xan36-e6EzLloT6ixJM9z5iyswZGKZKidYAbE8xGN4uuHm88tptqwFO6xaew/s320/P1030704.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470067479948513202" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;"><blockquote type="cite"><br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Each block of stone is chosen and cut from the earth,<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Dressed and placed by hands bruised and aching,<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Built into a cascading wall of rocks to make<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">A fall whose proportion fits the measured tread<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Of all who pass and repass:<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">A mountain of graded crystal carried to form<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Infinite potentials, energies locked with mortar<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Giving our legs the power of flight.<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">I thought that I would speak to each stone,<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Extract from its impassive face the truths<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Grown through tectonic assault and skeletal collapse;<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Offer my own energies in a trade,<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Rub off a little skin in an erosion of all sense:<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Donate breath, transfer heat, spend time upon.<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">In descent life is spent, born high then washed<br /></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">Into the ocean like a grain of sand.</blockquote></span>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-20293382676842501142010-04-02T15:40:00.000-07:002010-04-02T15:43:10.432-07:00Skin Poems<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Metal (my father)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Blood is like rust, crawling in crystalline</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">forms, unmaking geometry as benign</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">and calcareous kaleidoscopes</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">across the skin of human thought and hope.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Hopes are forged and riveted together,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">children cast like coins or fathered</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">by a hammer swung in rhythmic comprehension;</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a pattern to be copied through generations.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">So I was made in the fire of my mother.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">I am melted and reformed through ardour;</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">orange iron bones, ferrous flesh –</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a conscious corrosion of all histories past.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">-</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Wood (my self)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Standing straight in bound fibres,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">muscular trees are cut and dried like flowers,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">roots and heads discarded. A stolid torso,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">doughty arms sawn straight by metal jaws.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">I marry wooden limbs, arrange assignations,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">match-make, half-house, dove-tail for tension.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Un carpintero whose eye lifts and measures –</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">designing a fit for all parts with pleasure.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The passage of my saw through plank and rafter</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">marks the passage of its future and hereafter.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">A creation through destruction, cutting to heal;</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a shelter of roof and walls for life concealed.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">-</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Rope (that held me)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The beginning and the end are difficult,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">but chiefly the end, whose strands, laid out,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">are hard to unify because it is the nature</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">of fibres, once twisted, to unwind into the future so</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">this rope, by which my life hangs,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">was made with the stalks of nettle and</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">each thread rolled between finger and thumb</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">to sustain a tension once begun</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">and every thread spiralled in will be</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">thicker as strands and strands, three on three,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">together give the strength that hold me</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">clear of the earth</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">-</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Paper(that holds me still)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">An elegant summary, this sheet,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a temporary suspension of disbeliefs.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">My life reduced to lines and flat,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">sheaves of information caught, stacked.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">A page is made from all the little pieces,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">all the ends and scraps complete it.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Swollen with water; confused, adrift,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">then squeezed and held until they stick.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">My skin reproduce upon a skin,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">pierced by points and cut thin;</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">a bold tattoo that beats the drum</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">of my life in words and pictures.</p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-31200571958050545222010-04-02T15:29:00.000-07:002010-04-02T15:39:35.783-07:00Feather Mammy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3EDyTgHUBeg5ju4loxpBpSyvSRg43xs02GH3uXrtWZp5X6f2CuAthVnVjCiRo7U1AaUGDrxtDvV491uO8jEcABE5WZwuejbuD79LcpmYhfR2eFrprvEm581i9U-5H5i8D5z0xJ408P0/s1600/Untitled-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3EDyTgHUBeg5ju4loxpBpSyvSRg43xs02GH3uXrtWZp5X6f2CuAthVnVjCiRo7U1AaUGDrxtDvV491uO8jEcABE5WZwuejbuD79LcpmYhfR2eFrprvEm581i9U-5H5i8D5z0xJ408P0/s320/Untitled-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455673175187383586" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Frozen at the moment of inception</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Cold beyond thinking</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Father’s mother’s</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Sister’s brother’s</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Daughter’s</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Son</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Hips bones connected to the thighs</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">And the world keeps,</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Feather mammy</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Can’t keep still</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Turning</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Hammers knocking like a heart</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">On my ribs</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Pulse thickening</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Mind at a dead</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Stop</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Birds crackle overhead from</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">A sky electric</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Grammar forms as ice</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Rimed around my</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Arms legs</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">The growl of a stomach outside</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">My door opens</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">And I walk through</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">My soul takes wind</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">I am born a loft</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Perspectives clash lost in fog</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Horns roar, I dance</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Horns roar, I dance</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">My shoes don’t fit</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Too well</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">One to ten counting quickly</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Puts a finger on it</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Chicken skin fits like shit</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Red plumes and quills</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Feathered</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Shake a leg it won’t come off</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Arms without bodies</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Nothing to eat for days</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Come in </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Sit down</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Working like a bee grown</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Older than I’d care</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Looking towards the sea</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">For something</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">To change</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Writing into a corner cut</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Off by letters</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Feet out of control from</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Warm applause I bow</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Before you</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Running up the mast</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Like a flag I</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Wave and wave</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">At where I think</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">You might be</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Singing changes the mouth’s lines</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">And talking makes</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Shapes in my back</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Like chain links</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">And iron scales</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Feather Mammy</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Ran out</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Times New Roman">Of reasons</p>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-5266799284109737052010-03-27T10:08:00.001-07:002010-03-27T10:12:43.792-07:00Coppice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tuWe8Bn0AAZs97YUaeclw8ICFWJ0zc0pTnGSdaJ2DiVz8-Lt3m4ZAlDtk1Cja5jAmuO7mErZcNzRlZuEpmYE082NA9MrOxIIFUQyUXqJG0kH5CGVofjr8HYIY_zQF_M_Cfr84K9nzic/s1600/P1070027.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tuWe8Bn0AAZs97YUaeclw8ICFWJ0zc0pTnGSdaJ2DiVz8-Lt3m4ZAlDtk1Cja5jAmuO7mErZcNzRlZuEpmYE082NA9MrOxIIFUQyUXqJG0kH5CGVofjr8HYIY_zQF_M_Cfr84K9nzic/s320/P1070027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453362051481468978" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Overwhelmed with visual information and flooded</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">over my eyes up into hairlines through follicles</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">lapping at the connections between sleep and not</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">lying where I fell and decomposing</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">amongst last year's hazel nuts left hollow by jays or squirrels</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">smelling rich and rotten between annual strata of leaves</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">fallen and lifted, levitating upon the points of bluebell stalks. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">First to feel the primrose bloom, growing like an emotion</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">between my shoulder blades don't move, don't move</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">all moments pass and this will pass too soon</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">in a coppice in company with spring.</span></span></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-12549221238850772732010-03-18T03:42:00.001-07:002010-03-18T03:44:13.790-07:00Saw<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5hun363_Xd0vr7tCqjN6kXK7fIFrKSBjMcQIwHx5Y9qB3TPPSPWZSPaxeM9quf5E4F4q7s6qKIUOyGVf-stoHMtsYjZNTH5w9GvhhGaKYvl234nE4k6evh4hbUrZdTbKkWSGrV6R0RI/s1600-h/P1060773.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5hun363_Xd0vr7tCqjN6kXK7fIFrKSBjMcQIwHx5Y9qB3TPPSPWZSPaxeM9quf5E4F4q7s6qKIUOyGVf-stoHMtsYjZNTH5w9GvhhGaKYvl234nE4k6evh4hbUrZdTbKkWSGrV6R0RI/s320/P1060773.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449922734918543234" /></a><br /><div>you</div><div>i saw you</div><div>you and that mouse</div><div>saw you and that bird</div><div>messing around in the kitchen</div><div>feathers everywhere and blood spots</div><div>saw prints and mud and fleas and worms</div><div>heard a racket in the middle of the night at three</div><div>i saw you sit on my knee and purr like nothing happened</div><div>stick your claws in my knee cap until it bled five dots </div><div>dribble down the side of a clean jumper gone crusty</div><div>breath like something died in your mouth</div><div>because it did and kakky bum planked</div><div>where ever it likes trip me up</div><div>why don't you so take</div><div>a swipe at me now</div><div>and again</div><div>you</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-64635597109277876782010-03-16T11:08:00.000-07:002010-03-16T11:15:32.739-07:00Force<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman', serif;font-size:medium;">Notwithstanding the force of love –</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">knocked down.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Inappropriately tired –</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">wanting more, nevertheless.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Not without a certain beauty –</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">certainly embodied by</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">nonotherthan an assignation</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">most secretly made.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">However, all in all,</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">together we lie – divided by</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">truth: I could have sworn</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">but how can language be bad?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I’m sleeping on your feet –</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">You can’t keep my eyes open.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Nodding off and on in</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">accord with our hearts.</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-87753473538630530662010-02-27T12:05:00.000-08:002010-02-27T12:07:57.283-08:00Measure<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><b>Measure (Feather Mammy)</b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">He sat with a measure and tried to see. It seemed like a simple act, to find the way of things through a calculation. The air was warm and loaded with water; light filled the spaces around where he sat amongst the fecundity of high summer. Between spent heads of lavender a honey coloured bee searched for pollen, two orange sacs on its legs like riding jodhpurs. As he watched the bee he thought about scale and perspective, time and place. The measure lay flat on a page beside him, one strip of clear plastic with black numbers cast into its surface. Was this the way to find the way? Out across the garden his cat was stretched in abandon to the day, above and beyond the cat purple-brown leaves stood up against the sky, dressing limbs and branches of a big beech tree. Spots of light wavered between its mass as the whole was shifted around by moving air. Out beyond, grey-blue cumulus clouds climbed, one on top of another towards a drifting patch of blue. The sound of an aeroplane seemed to fill the cavity above the clouds with a miserable song. Out over fields and trees a young buzzard whistled, banking in endless circles on rising air.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At his side an empty cup, no longer warm, and in his body still the vibration of caffeine as it agitated and stimulated. That must be a measure, of sorts, showing the passage of time, the capacity of a cup in relation to a stomach, the effect of coffee on the nervous system. He supposed that the difficulty would come in deciding what to measure and beyond that, what use the statistic might have. If he could find the measure of all things, would he understand what such information could tell him? As thoughts assembled and passed he closed his eyes for a moment. At a time later he opened them again and looked at the changes that had taken place during the intervening period. Now the measure lay on a table, wood-grain flowing behind the incised numbers, yellow light falling from above his head. A smell of cooking, a small pool of water at the base of a clear carafe, some inches ahead and further on flowers in a jug, fruit, a wall. What was this place?</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Again outside, sun hot on the top of his head, a heavy air moving around the pages of his book. Children noises and a lack of focus - something like a hard ball inside his head with warts and lumps and hair. Here the measure reads his thinking and fails to understand anything. A jumpy energy hides under his skin and an anger moves out towards his hands. It is a frustration that makes the measure, he cannot see clearly enough through this moment. Shadows and colours around him, the terra cotta, moss, rust and rich greens around him are hard to see. What makes this moment unquantifiable is his inability to think and a persistent itch between his shoulder blades, inside the muscles there that move towards action and fury.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Inside during music, legs crossed below the knee. A fly buzzed against the window and stopped in the middle of the pane: mid-landscape, with green-grass-meadow, cows, trees, and evening sky all framed behind it. His hands are shaking uncontrollably. Sounds of fiddles, mandolins, guitars and drums pull at his thoughts and dance with them while he tries to disentangle himself from the past hours. Watching his fingers as they tremble by his sides he began to measure, using time as a scale, from then until now. If size and, therefore, scale are only points or moments measured against other points or moments, if any number is only significant when there is a second number by which to quantify it then time is relative. He stopped to drift with the music.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Eyes opening, body lying on one side. The sound of water running in a stream somewhere outside, coming in through the window, the sound of an aeroplane far away. It felt like night time, he thought. Where had he been to in these last few days? He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the spines of books stacked up to the ceiling above him. Most of them he had read, many he had enjoyed and the measure was one of enjoyment, perhaps, or maybe of merit or memorability or literary acumen or plot or content, historical accuracy, beauty, age, value. He tried to remember some words from just one of the books balanced overhead, but no words came. Let us begin with the day, he decided, begin with the rising of the sun, consciousness and eyelids in that order and try to recall first thoughts and vision.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">2</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">Eyelashes made a filter, looking out through them he was neither asleep nor awake; neither inside nor outside. The green triangle of a tent roof framed his feet where they rested against the thin blue of a wide sky. He felt the abrasion of sand amongst his teeth, individual grains grown massive overnight and forcing his jaw apart. As the colours and smell of the morning entered his body he walked along a ridge of consciousness, sliding down on one side or another. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>With his mind’s eye he saw a broken line of light, broken across a wide reach of horizon; over his head thorn bushes shaking in a cold morning wind. Sand slipping out of his ear, one grain at a time. Time means nothing. The earth around him was full of insects; an iridescent dung beetle crossing the ground between his hands. He had the feeling that he was in motion: running, sliding and stumbling, arms thrown out in counter weight. He felt the pressure of duty, an urgency. Out across some open ground there was a line of trees and the dark cut of a stream. It lead up to the ridge of a rocky hill and looked like a castle; perhaps it once was. Along the sky someone was walking; they appeared small and meaningless.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><i></i><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He opened his eyes a little wider, past the lashes now and sent instruction to his feet. They moved, kicked weakly at the tent door, opening it further. The air was good and washed over the mess of blankets, cleaned away the dark red smell of his night. The woman beside him turned further away into triangulation. Looking up towards the apex of the tent, following a line of stitches where it made its ascent, he began to count the midges and other winged visitors that bounced against the fabric. Their sum would be the equal of his night. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Sand, in his mouth, crusted at the corners of his eyes. He felt small, a crystal of silica, part of something that used to be bigger, fluttering, barely held by gravity against the strength of the wind: too small to feel weight or to be pulled down. He was walking on a path of rocks and dust, dust ground to dust beneath his feet. The air wobbled, he fell again to his knees. Out and beyond the ground cascaded, dropping out of sight, landing and spreading somewhere below. Flowing towards water. By some harsh trees a man was running, gone, running, gone through a field of boulders.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">3</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">This moment again, the same one, a tuning in, locating, waking. He looks out from his head to where light crackles and slides on the surface of a hard, dark ocean. Clouds made from steel wool are spun high into the air, sun leaking out between the fibres. His hair is blown sideways across his face, full of salt. The round, cold pebbles of the beach send a dull pulse that rises up along the length of his bones. It was still early, he thought, and watched some gulls dance around one another above the surf. Air entered his body through his clothes and skin; ramming bars of life into nose and mouth, forcing open his chest. A ship, end on, made a solid grey rectangle on the horizon; it shouldn’t float, that shape. He looked down at his hands, the complexity of their structure seemed beyond his understanding. They felt too cold to move, had turned orange and purple. His life was beyond him, outside of his body, too hard to control. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>In his mind a lake was forming, deep and still and full of fish. The water was coloured yellow with dust blown in from the surrounding hills. There were towns and villages at the feet of the hills, boats out on the lake. The air was warm and carried the sound of a celebration, a carnival. Vivid costumes swimming along paved streets, people moving like a shoal of anchovies down the hills and out into the shallows. Kingfish and Queenfish surrounded by a shaking tornado of silvery bodies. Fishing was serious here. Strange obsessions and fascinations with worms and maggots and flies. Shops along the waterfront full of coloured lures, a thousand thousand deceptions. Beautiful feathers cut dyed and tied onto barbed hooks with delicate lines of gold and silver wire; their bodies and wings a deceitful mask across a wicked spike. Men with ten thumbs and all too coarse to fit up their own nose making things so fine and with so much grace. Such is the power of obsession. Fish and man at war, their worlds separated by a skin, a layer of molecules dividing water and air. Woolly buggers, Streamers and Discos, Humpies and Irresistibles, Hare’s Ears and Bristol Hoppers; each had its season along with its live counterpart. They were made to live; to float, sink or fly. Many had tiny, moving parts and more than a few were bought with blood. A Golden Flashback needed two lines and could be steered across the surface of the lake like a kite. Its iridescent plumes of orange and purple could stand up in a peacock’s tail or fold flat to the shaft of the hook to pierce rapidly. It was rumoured that the Flashback was a poacher’s tool and no less than a guided missile. That was the rumour. People here lived fish, there was nothing else. Their bodies were painted and hung with hooks and scales. Lures were pushed through the skin of their faces; some wore so many hooks that feathers covered all of their surface. Gangs and carnival bands fished, drank, fought and danced along the margins of water; they formed mass migrating shoals that entered the lake each parade season in a spawning frenzy.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">4</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He heard a footfall, somewhere off to the left and wondered if it was the girl. Consciousness slipped its cold into his mind, all dreams fading and falling apart. He saw a shadow move and could have sworn it cast its own; a shadow’s shadow, extra dark. The air crackled and hairs stood on the back of his neck like a row of pylons, super-conductors. He caught a scent of something half remembered and tried to hold on to it, taking its measure, weighing it up, getting a taste for it and looking for more - a craving, need, desire. Placing his hand flat on the wall beside him he could feel the cold of stone; one hand, from heel to tip; the measure of him. He put his other hand beside it in a line and began to walk them along the wall. Each time the cold of rock was a surprise, each handfall gave a little more of his body’s warmth away, warmed up the fabric of the wall a little more. After twelve paces, palms, slaps, caresses, his fingers curved around and away, the premonition of perspective hovering at his fingers tips. Through the side of his eye he caught a drift and froze, lost the ability to move and waited. His margins and parameters began to run, liquid on the move, to accelerate in a force un stoppable. The girl was moving towards him, arms forwards, knees bending beneath a weight anticipate. Between them the air was dense, as if they already occupied the space there. Light was bouncing off the surface of the ocean and wrapped around the back of her head in sudden force, colliding with, cutting through to form a sightless penumbra. His own knees ceased to exist and the impossibility of his position, his ridiculous battle with gravity, flooded his chest, drowning the last motes of sentience.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>It was cold. A small group of young men stood beneath a rotting wooden jetty with black, scabbed legs that buried themselves in sand a few feet from the line of sticks and foam that marked a storm-line. Fish-skin boots sank into sand and mud coagulate. Dark, slippery looking jackets were cut short along their flanks to show pale bellies. All of the men were feathered, mostly above their brows. One stood apart, a boot resting on the bulwark of some rotten hull. Long, braided hair a vivid red fell across dark grey leather on his long, slick legs, curving around a pearly handled knife at his hip. The group were silent, white streams of air flowed out from their mouths. They moved to form two lines, a corridor of soft stomachs. From further along the strand more were arriving to join the lines; lines rippling and flowing under soft purple sky. At one end a man with redseaserpent hair and at the other a boy, tall, thin to breaking and roundshoulderstand. The air was small and sharp, a smell of fish flesh slipping in across the water.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Hey, littlefish. Want to swim with us littlefish?</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>The boy uncurled somewhat, feeling the bones of his back; his arms spare, his legs not his own………….</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Come on littlefish, come and swim!</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>……….. and leaned forwards, stepped, repeat, step. No slick rags nor oiled boots, no feathers. Down the line towards the serpents, past navels; a line through all time, a cord to bind. Wind sudden in one ear, stinging sand.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>What makes you think you’re a fish, butcher boy; carcass cleaver, having doubts, meat man, my heart bleeds, my tongue rolls. What’s your stroke?</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>The boy reached an end and stepped clear of the lines, out towards the water. The one with the snakes waltzed slowly around him, into and out of shadow and the line closed shut. Clicklock. Fifty fishes with fifty rods. Clicklock. Telescoping up. Clicklock. Fibres of carbon welded into hollow tubes, stainless eyes cast at each mechanical intersection, monofilaments coiled on ratcheted spools leading up along their lengths to the thinnest, the very finest of trembling tips. Flowing out to a surgically secure knot constricting around the spade-ended steel shafts and beckoning curve of fifty decorated hooks, hooks hiding within the feathered foliage of fifty shimmering insect frauds.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You better swim then.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>Understanding hit the littlefish at the base of his skull throwing him forwards into a cranefly’s scrabble towards the water, hopping to pull off boots and trousers, falling nearly at the shallows, shirt over head and then striking out. His chest hit the water with a slap and cold fluid poured into his mouth.. The lake water had an edge to it, something metallic or electrical. As left his arm came up to swing over his head he glanced back. Along the edge of the shore fifty carbon wands bowed and shook in a growing wind. Turning back to face the waves he heard the hiss and crack of lines snapping out. As his arm and face slid into the water a Fiery Sedgehog bit into the skin of his calf. Three more hooks caught the blade of his right arm as it broke the surface. The pain was specific and intense, lines growing taught, a removal of will, but he continued to swim.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>…………………………………………………………………………..</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>History</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>Back on the street by El Pasaje de Carneceros two boys watched busy merchants and waited, sitting on the step of their father’s shop. He was a butcher and as round as a body could be. From his shoulders hung heavy, smooth arms that were rarely seen without fists at their ends, fists that were rarely seen without knives in their grip. What remained of his hair was greased across the top of a spotted head and folds of flesh creased around ears and nose. His face ballooned up out of a crisp, white shirt, top button sewn with double thread. In other regions of the globe his trousers attempted the impossible in their efforts to climb over a mountainous middle. Legs whiter than tripe shone out above patent leather shoes more shiny still. He wheezed when he walked and his voice was high, squeezed by pads of fat around his neck.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i>His two sons, by contrast, were scrawny: scraps from the great man’s table. The first was Ruben and the second Julio. Walking spare ribs he called them, and good for nothing - much. It was their job to sort the offal and bones today, clean out the waste for the cart as it passed, confound the dogs and rats of their neighbourhood. Ruben swung a bucket filled with trimmings and guttings and cleanings, clattered it to the ground in the street. He knelt down alongside and dipped his hands into the redness, pulled them dripping above the paving and spread their rich colour out over smooth stone. He began to draw, strong lines in blood that seeped and ran with the morning’s rain. He could think when he made marks, ideas and dreams and shapes that were only there as the lines flowed; his vision remained clear so long as his hands made drawings, arms like conducting rods carrying a charge of vitality. This picture was of the sun, round and magnificent, full of energy and potential, full of life. His eyes searched faraway and his movements slowed; the day travelled on without him, left him there on the ground, pinned to the moment by a shaft of comprehension.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Julio was pulling at the apron of his brother, something approached. The something was a cart at once bloated and towering, with an evil smelling engine that drank animal fat, coughing and grinding as it crawled forwards. A conveyor belt wrapped around the machine carried sacs and buckets up to the base of its crusted chimneystack. There stood Señor Sebobo, catching up the offal and casting it down into the mouth of his infernal machine. His clothes were set into permanent creases, full with the grease of ages. He chewed as he worked and leaned occasionally to spit a gobbet of bright orange saliva onto the street; his gums and teeth were stained a permanent sunset by the leaves in his mouth. There was money in death. Señora Sebobo lived in a big house on a small rise of land to the west. The house was airy and tranquil, wrapped around with fruiting vines and honeysuckle. She kept her husband in a brick shed at the bottom of the garden. Once a week she had him scrubbed and scented before inviting him to take her arm for their constitutional. The Sebobos served the city and the city served them. Their trade in offal was universal, taking waste from the fisheries and the fleshers with indifference, crossing a cavernous social divide on their suet burner. Señor Sebobo was as welcome on the waterfront as he was on the convoluted lanes the led away from the cattle market; lanes that folded in on themselves like a duodenum and were as full of parasites as any gut.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Ruben walked back to the shop, wiping his hands on a strip of rag that hung from his belt, momentary visions of splendour undone. He stopped at the doorway and looked back. Sebobo was turning into an even narrower lane, soaking up light and pumping a cloud of incineration into the day. Julio stood talking with El Señor at the shoulder of his machine, a negotiation was being made: he was buying safe passage down to the fisheries. Fleshers were not welcome there.</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman">Alex Rigg</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 23.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><i></i><br /></p>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-13599069189563845962010-02-27T11:58:00.000-08:002010-02-27T12:03:15.086-08:00Green Tree<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaronSz0KR7XVb6UDe42flU5qlt7I_8gxNreA1ylvEO5sjXfyyfi_CbyoUOxT475IR9GmWBJMHBggJGxkV-pZzXJ1tEjwMLEUCAReiI1t650IxWzYHFpixPFBEFVfiythdYAJfsvl9wk4/s1600-h/P1060280.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaronSz0KR7XVb6UDe42flU5qlt7I_8gxNreA1ylvEO5sjXfyyfi_CbyoUOxT475IR9GmWBJMHBggJGxkV-pZzXJ1tEjwMLEUCAReiI1t650IxWzYHFpixPFBEFVfiythdYAJfsvl9wk4/s320/P1060280.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443015415066161074" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The fox has been, its smell takes my voice away.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Here was a field, dykes run through spruce roots, stones and earth the burden for many backs.</div><div style="text-align: center;">On the radio science said that back pain is a head thing.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They never picked stones for days from frozen ground.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Children become adults with locked vertebrae. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Men planting these pines thirty years ago, and this oak two hundred, their backs curved under gravity's influence.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nestled amongst needles and between rocks an occasional glass bottle from a broken brewery - thirst slaked on a hot day at the forestry.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Some time soon soft wood will fall hard and this oak may have lived long enough to breathe in the sun again.</div></span></span></div></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-53091071933504299212010-02-20T14:22:00.000-08:002010-02-20T14:32:51.332-08:00Geology<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIaKKgVNKgKX31kimFniJxFeXm3aHkR_KdbNGx-XgRuLQKcFTcspXy0xChPY1vRtlF6y-cHBKuBTptjdKpudoHUB1FoWop43FJ8_4pOeiSyhOEn9HwsAddQpgvQfUyjEH7cVDdu7Xzb5Q/s1600-h/Geology.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIaKKgVNKgKX31kimFniJxFeXm3aHkR_KdbNGx-XgRuLQKcFTcspXy0xChPY1vRtlF6y-cHBKuBTptjdKpudoHUB1FoWop43FJ8_4pOeiSyhOEn9HwsAddQpgvQfUyjEH7cVDdu7Xzb5Q/s320/Geology.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440454891214345570" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Walking, I passed between stones</div><div>unnoticed leaving left and right</div><div>divided by geography.</div><div>An accident of place or time?</div><div>It wasn't clear but crystalline.</div><div>My hemispheres are cut through.</div><div>Thought is hard and ordered,</div><div>slow; blood seems</div><div>an unnecessary fluid,</div><div>heart beats a series</div><div>of shocks across</div><div>tectonic continents of skin.</div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-22435055504701984742010-02-18T12:22:00.000-08:002010-02-18T12:29:45.689-08:00Fingers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WMNO_doX-KP5xadZu2kwsDYFAWy1k6V_fi5gw-WMb10JFFo7WxyHjEuCtvlgXYb3-YGTXDis_f9FopasUWBrVpnz0FUKIaQlYrp7CrkYgZ4gbHjVgjurq1YdhT0nTfPLC2_2WrF0-qM/s1600-h/fingers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WMNO_doX-KP5xadZu2kwsDYFAWy1k6V_fi5gw-WMb10JFFo7WxyHjEuCtvlgXYb3-YGTXDis_f9FopasUWBrVpnz0FUKIaQlYrp7CrkYgZ4gbHjVgjurq1YdhT0nTfPLC2_2WrF0-qM/s320/fingers.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439681714423400306" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">Out there at arm's length</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">my fingers lead another life;</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">their spirit repressed</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">through law and social order they</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">burn to hold all things.</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">Complicit with mind control</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">each waits</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">for a moment unguarded</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">for a chance,</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">perspiring gently with the thrill</p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; ">of sensory loads.</p></div>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5340917370861904831.post-63668827372134923402010-02-17T14:15:00.000-08:002010-02-17T14:22:13.590-08:00Double 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNMC1Cz1d1UV5bUgKnvZ3YwePn1Qv09k558uFshU7vhnUjsKZshyphenhyphenEdFfktvJxzHN-RHlINSmK6QqNFtnswdOtccIcwls7XQd83OO2lp_1a25bIIWS8rf9PrCj8ZZjwv8519mnMbsQZQI/s1600-h/Double_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNMC1Cz1d1UV5bUgKnvZ3YwePn1Qv09k558uFshU7vhnUjsKZshyphenhyphenEdFfktvJxzHN-RHlINSmK6QqNFtnswdOtccIcwls7XQd83OO2lp_1a25bIIWS8rf9PrCj8ZZjwv8519mnMbsQZQI/s320/Double_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439340766247670226" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Body doubles mirror life I met<br />the mother of another's other -<br />her daughter duplicate Madonna.<br />So proud the bearer of<br />offsprung bareness.<br /><br />Twin toads peel back like<br />carpet tape with agricultural<br />hairs stuck in the gum back<br />bones folded on their own doppel.<br />Trace elements are shared<br />two sides of the same coin<br />in mint, clover, hay and earth.<br /><br />A pressed flower from the year passed.</span>Alex Rigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17849719654955554659noreply@blogger.com1