I was leafing through an old notebook and I came across the phrase: it was the size of a dog, which I misread as it was the size of a day, the poem wrote itself after that. I have no idea where it came from but my misreading certainly gave life to something very different.
it was the size of the day and
it slipped in while he slept on
so that when he awoke
it was its sun he saw
its trees and grass he glimpsed
through its windows
his body slumbered on
machines worked to keep him stable
it was large yet it was not infinite
rather he just knew
on his solo walks in the empty park
where to stop
for one step more
and he would have been
enmeshed in its membrane
and forced to decide
the ceaseless machines watched over
his silent hospital room
I do not think it is a complete poem yet, it needs a redraft or two I think, but for now it is as complete as I can make it. Time for it to go away for a couple of months.
Annabelle Chvostek has just released another live video - enjoy.Until next time.