Summer Storm

Photo by Max Larochelle

Electricity fills this heavy afternoon

with the aftertaste of a copper coin

and leaves a bitter puckering,

a thirst for freshness.

Birds swoop in manic dives,
in-flight fuelling on insects
under high pressure, shocked
into a brief low-level existence.

Earth opens her pores and

releases her oldest odour.

Distant sounds carry with eerie
clarity, disturb equilibrium,
infuse numbed senses with
a hint of imminent danger.

The valley holds its breath….

except for the rabbits

coupling in apocalyptic frenzy,
drawing comfort from everyday activities

on this,
the last day;

trying desperately to increase

their species survival statistics
as the end of the world approaches.
Until, at the last moment,
even they seek sanctuary.

The air trembles, and stretches, and

shatters into sharp light, jagged
particles ripping normality
apart,
tracing a pattern too large
to be understood here, at local level;

explodes into magnetic sound
so loud as to be utterly silent
here, at ground zero,
where the nerve centre receives a signal
from eardrums too shocked to comprehend,
via a brain in the process of liquation.

Awestruck.

Helpless.

Awestruck.

The valley is frozen in space, in time,
isolated in white stroboscopic light,
suspended inside living sound,
naked within a force of creation.

In an instant,
in a quick blink:
it never happened.

The pressure lifts, and heavy

drops of rain wash the air clean.
The thoughtful earth drinks deep.
Memory stirs like an unshared dream,

filed away for now.

For now the earth hums,
the stream sings,
the trees drum,
and the rabbits dance.

 

March already?

Northern Lights - Photo by Jonatan Pie

So sick and tired. Sick and tired x 1,000,000.

In February I got an abscess with fevers. Very sick, and it wouldn’t go away. Lasted weeks. Gone now, finally, but the ME punishment for it is like a house landing on me and pinning me down.

Crawling through day after day, and every once in a while I wonder if I’ll ever have sufficient physical and mental energy to tidy up the (used to be a published pdf, now converted to a slightly distorted Word doc) formatting in A Flight of Thieves ready for re-releasing it.

I was aiming for a springtime release, but it’s spring already I think and I’m still in midwinter. So it will appear when it appears. I hope.

Then I’ll need to do the same thing with Gifted.

It’s like a pair of mountains I want to climb but I’m buried up to my chest in solid soil, vertical, immobile, staring at the heights from the lowland.

I just want to get my books back out there. Such a trivial administrative task, but impossibly huge for me right now.

So, that’s me. Catching up. Caught up. Hurting like some team of bastards keep battering me with baseball bats, hour after hour after hour. Falling back into the black hole now to try and recover from the energy I just used writing this post.

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