Good day today. Happily re-reading A year with swollen appendices by Brian Eno on the train this morning. So packed with ideas that it is hard not to feel shaken awake by it. Work not too hideous. Went for a lovely walk at lunchtime along the river to Putney Bridge beautiful springlike day. Felt curiously carefree and cheerful.

Listened to a guided meditation tape yesterday before I slept and I had a very peaceful night because of it.

Had nice phone chats with Liz and Paul in the evening. Paul still awaiting payment from a Chinese charity he did lots of work for last year, and is broke. Liz and I made peace after falling out somewhat lately.

Went for another walk too down by the sea. My new pedometer tells me I have walked over eight and a half miles today.

I decided today that I was going to write something, anything. I took a line from the Eno book where he mentions as an aside that he'd drempt he was a song. I decided to adopt a completely different strategy and force myself to write something instantly with no premeditation and no need for consistency and logic and so on. I am going to do one of these every day for a while and just see what emerges. Here's today's one.


070205

I had a dream I was a song.
Beneath the acropolis,
Airborne, I climbed the turns
Of the sugar cube town.

Clarion was my calling
Like one of the seraphim
I slipped through windows
And tore open curtains

My song was like dawn itself
I joined the chorus of the morning
I soared in the jazz of birdsong
Paradiddled on shut doors.

* * *

White cloth on a wooden table.
My laptop on the white cloth.
My cup of tea on the white cloth
I swear my song was apple green.

Green fire against the gloom
Emerald dragonfly in the motile
Margins of a leaf lit chalk stream.
My dream song was evergreen.

* * *

Jesus hardwired in your head
O head on a stone pillow
O mouth of singing age
Blathering revelations

In Patmos with your scribe
In the appalling cave
The constant fits; the seven stars
Prochorus! What makes it stop?