This poem arose from the notion that a person from the past that we conjure into existence inside our heads could have conscious thought. That they could narrate the scene/memory from a different perspective to the individual thinking them.
It is my third year there and it keeps getting better. Thanks to Rob for the invite.
Here's a video from Will Varley who was a highlight for me.
Until next time.
inside
the head of the man who sold us all down the river
Here
I am, however briefly, in his thoughts,
ordered
by a steward to stand on this spot,
given
appropriate clothing
[nothing
I would have chosen for myself],
and
told exactly what to say,
some
badly written supporting dialogue,
[not
the words I spoke at the time,
or
even a rough approximation].
I
have been thought into existence before,
not
very often, usually when he needs
to
illustrate his marvellous achievements,
and
the nobility of his actions to some new acquaintance.
I
step forward to speak my lines,
words
of gratitude,
how
I could only ever have respect for the man.
I
stand in his consciousness,
one
of many phantoms,
who bow and scrape and thank him
[the
opposite of what happened in real life].
As
I said this sort of event doesn't happen often,
usually
the likes of me never enter his head,
not
even for a second.
I was reading at 2000 Trees Festival last weekend and had an excellent time.It is my third year there and it keeps getting better. Thanks to Rob for the invite.
Here's a video from Will Varley who was a highlight for me.
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