Friday, 9 April 2021



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.

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