The Value of Measurement

This wasn’t technically written on November 26th but I’m reposting it from November in 2019 as part of Fandango’s Friday Flashback.

Out of the Cave

In The Power of Imagination, I compared Eichmann to a cog in a clock, unaware of the bigger picture. This morning, when I re-read it, I thought about how it is not the clock that makes time pass. A clock is just a measuring device, like a tape measure or an odometer. All these human concepts. The birds have no clocks and yet they know when to do what. The nest-building, the partner-finding, the egg-hatching, the migrating. It all happens. All around them are clocks, I guess. Leaves falling, buds growing, sun-rises, rain falls, tides, moon phases.

Humans have our clocks and yet we seem to know so little. We know when we need to be at school or at work or how long it is since we ate. But we don’t know when or how to find the right partner, we don’t know how to prioritise raising kids…

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Two Lost Souls Swimming in a Fish Bowl

(Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here") oil - sinewed rainbows rafted up to swirl and giggle riding high on the nausea of a fatty sea your blood’s dark swig sucked and spat your prehistoric core birds in Brylcreme slicked sick I hear them weeping yet I sleep on bubbled in glass so far away … Continue reading Two Lost Souls Swimming in a Fish Bowl

The Place We Live

The sun sits in leaky splendour; watermelon juice staining this upholstery this smog brown décor this Faberge sunset this velveteen smoke haze. A cloying choice but here we all sit in our plush living room our shrine of consecrated ignorance and listen to the clock and the crackle roar of our future. Written for Misky's … Continue reading The Place We Live

Who Hears the Crying?

When a million stars take leave from night duty and arrange themselves on Earth's blackened boughs then you know that tree cries are heard all across this universe we perceive as barren. But tomorrow, when we stand dressed in smoke, completely lost in its ebb and rolling, our asphyxiated wails will vanish quick as bio-luminescence … Continue reading Who Hears the Crying?

They Have Hearts Too

pour happy thoughts into your breakfast bowl that summer mayn't dry out hope leaving it on footpaths adrift amongst the stepping stone madness of commuter feet try looking for a moment through the spectrum of flowers petal art by vein they have hearts too open to the sun begging for bees and if they wilt … Continue reading They Have Hearts Too