tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23405167047893931182024-03-07T18:53:34.530-08:00Letters From The Dark ForestKirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-83623016405620243562011-09-09T06:15:00.000-07:002011-09-09T06:18:05.880-07:00The Dying House<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">Dear R,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">I am sorry, but the house is dying. I hate to write this news to you when you are so far away but there is nothing I can do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">It started with the wall clock in the hall; it stopped a few days ago. When I opened up the back, intending to wind it up, it had fallen to bits in the inside. Like all the tension holding it together, all the purpose to follow the ticks with the tocks had just ended and the cogs and weights simply let go of each other. I put it in a box and tidied it away for you to see when you return. But that was just the start of it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">The doors fell off the kitchen cupboards. All at once in the night. I crept downstairs with a lamp in my hand, thinking it was a burglar. But there was no one, just the doors lying on the floor with their hinges and screws scattered all over.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">There was no reason for me to be frightened, not then, but something cold ran its fingers over me, and I ran upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom till morning.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">I wish you had been there then.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">I tidied up the doors in the morning, stacked them neatly. The cupboards gaped their contents at me. They looked obscene, exposing themselves. There was a dead mouse at the bottom of the stairs, and another under the dining table. Did you put poison down? Sad creatures. I put them in the bin. They weighed so little.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">When the cracks started to appear in the walls, I think that’s when I began to panic. The house was letting go, breathing out.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">A long exhale before death. I remember holding my grandmothers hand as she lay on her deathbed.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">There was slight squeeze on my fingers and then this long release of breath. It seemed she was breathing out from the depths of her lungs, traces of air taken in rom when she was a child still lingering there were now flying out out and letting her go. Her whole life in breath running away to find another life to fill.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">The legs fell off the wardrobe and the rail collapsed inside, I found all our clothes lying in a heap, vomited out of the doors by the foot of the bed.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">I tried fixing the rail but nothing stuck. Nails seemed to be pushed out from the inside. The house is dying and will not be healed. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">The parts of our house are letting go of each other. Their fingers slipping and sliding away.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"><span lang="EN-US"></span>The cracks ventured up from the floors in every room, ivy traces tearing the plaster apart.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">The windows followed. Shattering from a point, like invisible bricks had been flung at them. I can press my ear against the panes and hear them shattering on and on. Dividing into tiny pieces barely held together. I wonder when they will let go and fall inwards? Exposing our house to the world.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">The house is dying and there is nothing I can do. It is breathing out its last from the depths of its lungs and purging its secrets. The wallpaper unfurled from the bedroom walls and revealed scrawls made by children long ago. The floorboards sprung up and showed me love letters from a past affair here. All the secrets of this house are running for the door. I want to run with them. But I think I must stay. I think I must hold the hand of this house as it lies on its deathbed.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;"><span lang="EN-US"></span>I hope you return soon. Our house is dying and I must stay and feel its last exhale. I am sorry.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">Love ever,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">D</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-38358068259235682582010-03-29T06:47:00.000-07:002010-03-29T07:10:41.280-07:00Mug Goodbye<span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Yesterday the cat was re-homed and today my favourite mug was broken. I bought it because it had a pattern of trees that reminded me of Wimbledon common and because it was big. I have lived in Wimbledon pretty much all my life and now I am moving away. Not to anywhere, I am going to float and see what suits me. Because I </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">don't</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> yet know. I have visions of the ocean and community that is absent from my life in London. Maybe I shall find it. But I really bloody loved that mug. It was all shades of green with silvery leaves and red butterflies. It was wrapped up in a box and given as a </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">metaphor</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> for a friend to look after while I am homeless. I had planted it with thyme because 'there are exciting times ahead' (note the unsubtle wordplay). But the friend, the dear friend, is as clumsy as me and the box with the mug inside was dropped at the tube station all of twenty minutes after it had been given. The mug broke into more than two pieces and my </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">beautiful</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> image of the common in spring was smashed apart. When the friend told me on the phone what has happened I cried. I hadn't yet cried about leaving. Leaving and not knowing. So we decided to bury the mug Wimbledon Common and to say goodbye.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-39594782223756265882010-01-21T04:50:00.000-08:002010-02-16T05:43:23.170-08:00Paper Birds<span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" >There are paper birds on the underground.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" >The migration has begun.<br /><br />Have you found a paper bird?<br /><br />Tell someone. Leave a comment.<br /><br />Where did you find her?<br /><br />What did she tell you?<br /><br />Maybe you can help her on her way...<br /></span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-3650125609782097142009-12-04T06:08:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:39:43.580-08:00In Memory<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 9"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 9"><link style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Helen/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">The skies are moving fast these days,</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">They rip across dragging chins along the pavement</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">And taking the light against their bellies in</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Pinks reflected in the oils of old masters.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">The air sinks cold to my chest and </p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Against my ribs now pillars in churches –</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Clean and indifferent.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Something snaps in the woods,</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">In the snatched view between sinking trees</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">There is the ghost of a man.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">On his bench and waiting,</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">His companion carved there never came. </p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">She slipped into the pond, between algae sheets</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">And let the weeds take her.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Bent like a bow sending scudding arrows across the undergrowth.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">He is waiting for her face that sunk.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">And he cannot swim</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">His arms won’t beat for her in this wood.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">On their bench his arms won’t beat.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Swimming is like flying and the crows caw.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">But his arms will not beat.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Instead he lets the rain fill his boots and the </p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Arrows scud into the undergrowth.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">The skies move on fast, bringing heavy night.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">And he fades like a ghost should.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">I read their names on the bench as I soak up the cold.</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">And my boots fill with rain.</p> Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-34121835204117954382009-11-21T02:30:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:40:59.280-08:00History<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >They </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" >didn't</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > know what they were getting into, the day the 1920s came. The 1920s arrived with its bags packed and they politely offered to serve it tea in the orangery. That was a mistake. Very soon they were smoking cigarettes from amber holders, drinking gin and tonics at two in the afternoon and </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" >talking</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > in clipped radio-tongues. The 1920s merely lounged in a bamboo chair and watched the bobs get </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" >cut and</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > the lips turn red.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Then the 1930s arrived and things became </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" >awkward</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >. The jollity and the Charleston and the </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" >records</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > and the flinging pearls faded to rations and bunkers and telegrams containing News. The 1920s and the 1930s did not get on. One day, in the </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">orangery</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >, they were found arguing over the wastage of butter. Things were said, waistlines were lowered and raised again and again all afternoon. Eventually the 1920s threw a tin of corned beef at the 1930s which missed (partly due to the three gin and tonics the 1920s had consumed before tea), crashed </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" >through</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > the orangery window, </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">ricochet</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > off the Anderson Shelter and landed </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" >amongst</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > the </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" >potato</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > patch that had been so willingly 'dug for victory'. The 1920s packed up its things in a carpet bag and marched out the door, leaving behind nothing but the sound of clinking pearls and the </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" >scent</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > of </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" >Chanel</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">No.5.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >It did not take long for the 1940s to turn up after that. It looked the 1930s and shook its head. Things were about to get nasty.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-6403903868652161312009-11-21T02:12:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:41:35.230-08:00Physics<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The stars! The stars; swelling and clear.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The stars that hang and </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" >disappear</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Like the lighthouse gaze that opens and shuts,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As an eye to and from </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" >sleeping</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > and dragging the dust;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The house of a star that they netted and kept</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >For the sake of the boats and the wives that They left.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But the void was not filled and the velvet sky cried;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >"You've taken and left me with a hole in my side!"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And forever The Sky had to do just to gaze</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >At the star from her belly on the shore of the seas.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And the star knew no better, being just gas and air,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But The Sky kept on wailing - for fear! For fear!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >She knew of the terror the seas could </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" >induce</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >When the winds </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" >picked</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > up and the waves were let loose.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And when night such as this </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" >occurred</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > on the Earth,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The Sky couldn't watch - </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" >foreseeing</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > the worst.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But her star </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" ></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >never knew her maternal plight -</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >For she was only atoms and light.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Her mother bore more children to remedy her pain,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >To fill the space where the Earth Star had lain.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But the fishermen never knew of her tragic </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" >disgrace</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >For she was just a vacuum in the fabric of space.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >For The Sky was only the absence of light</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And her children just physics made visible by night.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-42019011961172363412009-11-21T02:08:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:42:08.485-08:00Mermaid<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Shore, shore, sure</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >drinking salt water</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and trying to rhyme</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >swimming between green</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >making ale from kelp</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and sawdust</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" >watching</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > things be made</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and waiting for an accident </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >to happen</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >-accident me please-</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" >diving</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > without trying</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and drawing</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >a line</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >in the sand</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >and running through locked doors.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-82909007661992248042009-11-21T01:54:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:43:17.917-08:00I Never Was Good With Wires<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I've tried holding my breath on the escalator</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And holding my nerve as I jump.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I've tried keeping my buttons in boxes</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And ignoring uncomfortable lumps.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I've tried listening for mice with my head on the floor</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And hearing the days as they pass,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And licking the batteries that should spark the tapes-</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Containing The Times - now elapsed.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But nothing worked to make it tick,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Nothing fired the coals.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >All of this just left it lying</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >With limp connectors in fabric folds.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I've tried closing doors when sunsets bleed</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And cooking </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" >flotsam</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > soups.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I've given my salt to soapy-cuts</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" >pasteurised</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > the boots.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The iron filings </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" >didn't</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > work,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And neither did the sand.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The butter only made a mess,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And the acid burnt my hands.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Still to nought my toils all led,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Still nothing in there stirred.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The cogs and spindles lay splintered still</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And no whirring fizz </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" >occurred</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The machine remained only parts-</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Collecting </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" >settling</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > dust.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The inevitable decay began- </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Kept company by the rust.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Once I tried not trying,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But failed for paradoxes sake.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >So I tried forgetting, failing</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >When reminded by the ache.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >So it lay again unmoved again,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Except for shadow's slide,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And I tried constant trying</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Just to pass the time.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Just to pass the ages</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Until the mechanism twitched,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And yet I am still trying,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As I'm yet to find the switch.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-13713071649284503752009-11-21T01:47:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:43:46.539-08:00Beaches<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And the sea shall sail, shall sail its ships</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >To lines of sight that fade to haze</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >When adventuring </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" >starts</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" > with failing tides.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And we can finally set away.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Our homes lie with loves - scattered to change.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >When our wings catch the updraft</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Our bellies won't weight us down.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >"Spire, socket, seed" goes the spell.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Make a hammock from sail-cloth and </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Launch in sleep.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And we shall hunt as pack, as tribe</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >For home, for light to set the place.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-87004610913546936492009-08-08T04:59:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:44:39.926-08:00Falling<p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Dear F,</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"> This missive will be my last from here. I am sorry. This is all I have left to do. I will disappear. Fade into the ether inside these walls, inside these gardens that keep me safe. Or held. It had been so long I've forgotten how this all began. With dancing perhaps? Or birds made of paper that disintegrated when the rain began to fall. I loved the rain. It washed the grease paint from the illusionist’s face. Remember him running for shelter in the glasshouse? But the illusions did not stop. Remember the glass cracking beneath our feet? <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Crystal</st1:city></st1:place> meeting boot sole and glasses that made a sweep of stars on the grass when the lights fired in the house. Perhaps that signalled the end of the party? When the gates closed between us. I missed my chance to leave then, it was moment between fading bells. Then the wheels turned and the bars came rattling down. The noise hurt like metallic twisting inside bone, like a needle through a tooth. The sound cut through the music, the calls of celebration and song. It drowned out everything because I knew what it meant. The division of something so whole it weighed on me with its simply being there. So present as one. Like a book torn in two – neither clutch of pages making sense without the other, a half read story forming to mush in the rain. And I was left standing in a room of spinners, lights exploding and fading behind my eyes and the makers of changes forgot me. Everything felt like glass and light. But perhaps you knew that's what it would take to save me? Perhaps you knew I could not last beyond? I could hope. But no longer. The time here never changes. The clocks repeat the hours but the days. The days never change. Oh for a day to shift into another in the night. But all here is laughter, song, light. Laughter song, light. The chandeliers are smashed again and again and I have begun to walk across in expectant pain once they have hit the ground. But no blood is drawn. Nothing touches me. I think there is a millimetre of space between me and all else. Everything else is a trace away from feeling. I am suspended and need to fall. I need to fall. Maybe you have already begun? We can hit the ground together. The lights are bursting once more. The ivy grows up the walls at such a pace! The only thing that ever alters here and it's the thing that closes us in. Fills the gaps for sighting outside. I am closing in and this is the only way; to disappear. To begin the falling. I shall fall in a million pieces. Pieces that will drift upwards on the wind and over the walls. I will divide and fall sideways through the atmosphere. I need to fall. I will become the exploding light. I am sorry. I am going to disappear. Meet me at the falling. </p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Yours ever,</p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">S</p>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-45281954631436714242009-07-04T11:53:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:45:02.769-08:00Waiting<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I am waiting as the night comes in waves,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Waiting as soft foot steps home-hurrying pass,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Waiting as imprints and half-prints are hushed to insect hum.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And under the cover of a willow’s grieving bends</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I wait and watch the water swallow dark.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The day is over-worked and aching for bed, </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As longest day is done,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As autumn begins her distant beckoning.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And night creates such colours to make the most of her short call.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And through the budding curtains I see the boat.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Rounding the bend with low slung heaving,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The water giving smooth progress for the sweat.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I cup the paper ship in my hands-</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >All folds and creases binding her will to mine.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I am holding time and my breathing,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But Battering wings shatter the stillness;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >A birds sets flight from above me</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And in the vacuum left behind,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >A feather falls with rocking motion on the updraft.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >My hand shoots into the twilight, </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Pale and vein mapped as paper written in blue ink.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The plume is young and dark, traced with fluff.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >It crowns the ship and tickles in the wind.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I am waiting as the oars drag onwards,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As the slop and slide rises</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As my ship begs to be cast off,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I am waiting for the air to pass,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >I am waiting for the birds to lift.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And off, off, off on the glass surface,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Barely a bend as she sails,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Night-feather flickering, like a candle in reverse.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And the rower sees the messenger cutting her path towards him.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And the rower scoops her sodden form just before the wreck.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But I am nothing to the night.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Off down dark paths and over clipped lawns.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >As the rower reads the letter.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And too changes course.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-81537983078990503232009-06-02T15:13:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:45:41.882-08:00London<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Chelen%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">As I fell through concrete skylines<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">In a rush of reflected glass,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The beat slipped from my heart’s drum<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And split on the pavement to shards.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">I watched it before my landing<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And felt the hungry city sing<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">As it gained a new pulse to chime to,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">To join <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Westminster</st1:place></st1:city>’s bell ring.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The water’s so cold beneath bridges<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And the current’s too strong for regrets.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Once decisions are made for the plummet,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The only direction is death.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">A girl was waiting at Southwark,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Was rapping my beat on her chest.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">One of a thousand pieces<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Spat into her palm where she pressed<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It deep inside her own heart-line –<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Until then unbroken with hurt-<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And I felt her beat echo my hollow<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">As I lay on the bank in the dirt.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">With my face coated in city scum,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Ends of revelry caught in my hair,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">I peeled myself from the flotsam<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And staggered my way up shore-stairs.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The sound ricocheted through the tunnel,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Like a taunt propelling its pain,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">She stood at the end, I the other,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Her eyes full of hunt and the game.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The restless city within me<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Was a mess of spasming light.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Like swarming insects with blood-lust<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">That feed on those lost to the night.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">With a flick of her wrist I was falling,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">In a haze of sickening scenes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Her laughing filled every atom<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And The City strained at the seams.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">As the cracks opened with the descending,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Sounds leaked out from the core;<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Pounds of hearts soaked in <st1:place st="on">Thames</st1:place> water,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Hearts broken and aching - at war<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">With their own lack of loving<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And the lack of the city to love.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">I could feel my hollow chest throbbing<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And longing a beat to my blood.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The sound rose from inside me<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">From pavement and river and bridge.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It shifted the stagnant pools gathering<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">In my veins, now yearning to live.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And the water reflected the sunlight<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Below Southwark where I found her dead.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">I pushed it out with the tide-flow,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It sunk with a heart made of lead.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The City continues spin<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And the bridges continue to call,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">But my own beat kept its own time<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">As the bodies continue to fall.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: -36pt; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-11636531268571401472009-05-01T08:36:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:46:14.161-08:00Colour Story<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >The day the colour came I found<br />The difference between here and there.<br />I found the place we’d met<br />And all the moments spent.<br /><br />In the grey-grey we didn’t touch<br />Distance would prevail and we would fail<br />To fill the gaps.<br /><br />Then the sun rose in shades<br />That blazed across my eyes<br />And bled to the corners of the sky.<br />It was the first I’d seen<br />And the ink was spilt and spilt<br />Till the world weighed with it.<br />Like blotting-paper drinking stains.<br /><br />When the grey-grey was all consumed,<br />You and I stood where we first met –<br />Now dripping in colour.<br />Even the dirt beneath our feet was brilliant.<br />The colour led to the kiss<br />And my lips were red<br />In the place we met.<br /><br />We got sick with it and<br />Wanted to die.<br />We got drunk on it and<br />Attempted to fly.<br />We swam in it<br />And sung with it<br />And Painting finally made sense<br />And we forgot what grey-grey was<br />And we made whole cities with rainbow houses.<br />We lived in it and<br />Fucked in it<br />And died in it.<br />We buried the dead in techni-colour coffins<br />Under grass no longer grey and grey.<br /><br />Then the sun set and you kissed me<br />Again.<br />In the saturated dark<br />Now so rich and thick with it.<br />Time spun to infinity<br />In a multitude of shades.<br />But then it ended.<br /><br />And the sun rose grey.<br />You stepped away and<br />It filled the space between.<br />And my lips were grey.<br />My lips were grey.<br />And that was the end of the brilliant,<br />Bold and heaving.<br />The colour was too much<br />And too brief for grieving.<br />So again we failed to touch<br />And you again were leaving.<br />As the sun set grey and grey.<br /></span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-61823562148003421302009-04-11T11:47:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:46:37.973-08:00Returning<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Yesterday, I went back to the house I grew up in.<br />It was silent and cold.<br />The walls were caving and the windows craving light.<br />Dusty shrapnel spattered as I picked my way<br />Across the hall.<br />I'd torn the ivy from the kitchen window to get in.<br />The glass had cracked, unsupported.<br />And scattered over the mildewed sill.<br />And inward into the sink.<br />Crumbling debris and needles littered the floor.<br />And the air craved life,<br />And the air craved life. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" ><br />The rooms once had names and hosted moments,<br />Before time slowed with the boarding of ways in.<br />Before ivy gloved the house from sun.<br />I found the cellar door open,<br />And poised,<br />And waiting,<br />And ready for light.<br />The stairs vanished too quickly into Unseen.<br />Memory collided with instinct then.<br />They joined forces -<br />Both running the same way.<br />Out.<br />Get out.<br />Get out.<br />I'd heard it before.<br />The door<br />Quivered.<br />The glass on the sill had cut my hands as I scrambled<br />In.<br />The warm crimson dripped to the floor<br />In tick-tock drops of wet on chocking dry,<br />Creating craters.<br />The shivering whisper hushed again;<br />Get out.<br />Get out.<br />And everything went wrong.<br />Everything went wrong.<br />Something had grown in the time I'd bee gone.<br />It had been left unchecked for too long.<br />Like disease in old trees,<br />Like rumors that lead to foul deeds.<br />And I ran.<br />And I ran.<br />The edges catching my hands<br />Again.<br />I left the air to crave<br />And the cellar door calling for life.<br />I left the house I grew up in yesterday,<br />Regretting the blood on the floor<br />As too much to leave behind. </span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-7168570351003801192009-03-29T11:18:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:48:10.505-08:00Proximity<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Chelen%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s about changes in space and lengthening time. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s about doors that fail to open and mis-directed signs.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s pine cones in pockets just to fill the void.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Taking breaks around the building, just to check the noise.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s about altering affectations in the hope of better ways<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">But failing at the first and leaving overplayed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s when the exit sign flickers, and reflects below the rake<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">When I’m sat with long exposures and documenting tape.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s about sweeping circular routes for pointless cups of tea.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">About a secret on a post-it I’d rather no one see.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s closeness in the first place and distance in the last.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Nothings that turn to episodes and slip into the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">It’s about rushing and not stopping until it’s too far late<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">And the marble stairs are empty because I failed to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-31952515387356558302009-03-23T12:27:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:49:51.105-08:00Corn Doll<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Girl in black, boy in blue.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >She Felt and he never knew.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >There was such a lot she said,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >Thinking talking would turn it into sense.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >But words only made a corn doll.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" >And a fool.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-38185450987779365372009-03-10T05:12:00.000-07:002010-02-11T08:50:47.655-08:00You Could Change Space, I Could Not<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Chelen%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">If I inhabit your space<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">And paste myself over the walls, like dust and glue,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Would you come home?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">As I unravel the bandages,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">That hold the most important parts together,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Could you please turn away?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">I don’t want you to see this.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">I don’t think anyone should see this.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">The words can come like modern mantras,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Propelling me through the wasted day.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">But they don’t consult with the actions.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Separate script and mime.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">I am sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Tell me it has all been worth the mess and it will stop.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">I am sorry<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">That I couldn’t do it better than this.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-46311122944058891992009-02-13T10:30:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:51:18.571-08:00End Song<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">This is not your story and I am not your friend,<br />We can construct meanings from traced etchings<br />Or we could just pretend.<br />I won’t tell you of heroes that never fell to fault.<br />I won’t weave a yarn from frayed endings,<br />All I have is circling salt.<br />Perhaps I’ll sit inside it and look out at the sands,<br />And you can sit beside me,<br />Whilst I unmake our plans.<br />Don’t think that we were lovers, we weren’t even known.<br />I think i need to see the edge,<br />Where swan’s songs chime alone.<br />You could watch me as I set out; you could turn away and hear<br />My cry as I let it out,<br />That fills my distance to the pier.<br />Before tide, sweep smudged circles; now mixed with sanded dust.<br />Reform them to make your fortune,<br />Whilst my riches wear to rust.<br />Oh, but this is not yours or even mine,<br />This is just a moment,<br />Beats of inevitable rhyme.<br />So don’t think this is for or of you,<br />You are a shadow on a shore.<br />You are not and cannot<br />Reach me anymore.<br /></span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-82862963410308294292009-01-26T16:16:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:52:04.434-08:00The Lady in Blue<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">“And the clock”, said the Clockmaker, “shall chime the days,<br />And the bells will ring out to sea.<br />And the men at arms will fall away<br />When the wars write their own decrees.<br />And the Woman in Blue shall sing her last<br />As her sailor knows not his own sails.<br />And she’ll pack up her birds in cages shut fast,<br />And ask again to ring out the bells.<br />And time will take our freedom away,<br />As though it were a door made of locks;<br />Each turn of a key a new minute drawn,<br />And each cog a tick-followed-tock.”<br /><br />And the Lady in Blue knew the truth<br />As soon as the Clockmaker said<br />That the clock, oh the clock, will render the days,<br />Will craft the sunrises from lead.<br /><br />So she took up her birds and descended the stairs<br />To a chamber below ocean rock.<br />She plucked all their feathers and cut off her hair,<br />And set one thousand keys to their locks.<br />And with all the down and the hair from her head<br />She carpeted the walls and the floor.<br />She feathered cell, feathered not bed,<br />Her sailor turned the keys tight in the door.<br />And so, the ticking from the Clockmaker’s hands<br />Resounded across the shores.<br />But the Lady in Blue, deep beneath the sands,<br />Could hear none but her birds aching calls.<br /><br />And so, with no time, no tick-followed-tock,<br />The Lady in Blue was set free.<br />Freed from the minutes – made free by the locks,<br />Keys spread across fathoms of seas.<br /><br /></span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-18287365288627424632008-12-17T08:19:00.001-08:002010-02-11T08:52:29.592-08:00Some Words<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Silver threads<br />Scissors<br />Holding on tight<br />Banisters<br />Tower<br />Brass<br />Half<br />Light<br />Top<br />White birds<br />Suspension<br />Toes<br />Prickling hairs<br />Just too cold<br />Buried rivets<br />Upside<br />Down<br />Foundation stones<br />Feeling cracks<br />Marble<br />Eggs<br />Smashing floors<br />Height<br />Decision<br />Made</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-24188717971150094172008-12-12T06:29:00.000-08:002010-02-11T08:53:07.658-08:00The Great and Unsettling Adventures of Little Lizzie Literature: Part One<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Once upon a left handed argument, Little Lizzie Literature decided to take her bread and jam upon the southwards side of the Search-lit Sofa Sea. The Times had taken their toll on her paper pulp skin and the roaming light intermittently illuminated the dried up edges round her little written nose.<br />She munched her meal as the lighthouse span its head, accruing a most circumnavagatory view of the landscape. The jam was strained from the pulp of Pickwick Pears, which grew on the branches of the Dickens trees, found in Library Lagoon. Their flavour particularly full of character and cockney aromas.<br />The Sofa Sea undulated in a most somnambulant fashion – sending Little Lizzie Literature off to sleep in a beating of a bibliography eyelid, wedged precariously between a recliner and a beanbag. The Sofa Sea was now contributed to by the unfortunately named Stray Fluff Leakages – which had begun to descend from the Extra Stuffing Heights after the Great Rearrangement of the Second Sitting. The Ocean, once pure of all alternative seating plans and renowned for its two and three-seater clarity, was a hotch potch of cushioned intruders. Sofamen sometimes had to wait for days before a catch took hold of their lines and the effect on throw-cushion fish stocks was untenable.<br />So Little Lizzie Literature slept and ruffled her pages gently in her slumber, unaware of her predicament as she slipped down the back of inaccurately referred to Sofa Sea. Little Lizzie Literature bumped her paper-bodied way downwards until she rested gently on the bottom - atop a layer of biscuit crumb sand (and narrowly avoiding a stubbornly positioned depositation of forgotten-penny choral). She slept there until an uncompromisingly bristled hairbrush crab prickled it’s was across her chest, causing several of her pages to turn.<br />Little Lizzie Literature had been informed most vociferously by Old Grandma Gallstones that those who fall down the back of the Sofa Sea do not return unaltered by their experiences, if the do in fact return at all. The Maple Syrup Men travelling from the Great Rock Candy Mountain swore blind as a sugar rush that the Weave Witch of Worsted kept her lair company down there. And her lair was not to be reckoned with.<br />But Little Lizzie Literature was not a fluttery binding of pages. She had a belly full of bread and the hard-back spine of a dictionary. Little Lizzie Literature took a deep goose feather breath and set off into the darkness of the bottom of the Sofa Sea…. </span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-23960610189797225312008-12-10T14:06:00.001-08:002010-02-11T08:53:35.986-08:00Tea Set<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">“Please do come round for tea” said She to He.<br />They sat in tiled and painted spaces and considered each other’s faces.<br />He was the carved frescoes lost heroes.<br />She, the painted and gilt goddess on the ceiling –<br />Tempting Fate to a snake-bite bed.<br />They sipped coloured liquids,<br />The lightshades of stained glasses above His head.<br />Their hands brushed over fumblings for silver spoons.<br />And the clink of bone china made etchings on their soundscape.<br />They had entire histories described for them upon the walls.<br />But He paid no heed to prior mishaps in relief.<br />They sipped until Her finest set was dry.<br />She swept it to the floor<br />Where it expanded in a flurry of footprint clouds.<br />She scooped the settling dust and softly blew it into His eyes.<br />The tea-set powder burned and stung.<br />He flung his bones against the marble scenes protruding at his spine.<br />Smothering moments of woe and war.<br />Of love and lies picked out in compacted debris.<br />She pressed in and kissed Him once and twice together.<br />Cold touches of brittle cartilage<br />That made his blood run dry -<br />Like the finished tea upon the floor.<br />They were swallowed by ceramic.<br />Light span through tinted glass to illuminate Their stone set faces -<br />Locked in a kiss of composite shells.<br />Trapped in calcium compounds.<br />Wrung out leaves remained upon the terracotta tiles.<br />Perhaps they spelt the shape of misfortune.<br />Or desire and loneliness combined.<br />A ribbon of text inscribed itself about Their heads<br />A Roman-fonted message to those taking tea unchecked:<br />"And the Thirsty crushed beneath their weight to stone.<br />And the china turned to china what was bone. "<br /></span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-91316285857107779632008-12-08T16:30:00.000-08:002008-12-17T08:24:18.061-08:00Ramage and Bean<span style="color:#663300;">Ramage and Bean<br />Provided the scene<br />From which their story was told.<br />They gave us the setting –<br />A place suffocating<br />In a god, at the cost of it’s souls.<br /><br />Ramage was the keeper<br />Of the Princely Sleeper –<br />Locked in the tower above.<br />Bean was his lover,<br />Kept tight undercover.<br />Hands tight through the skin of a glove.<br /><br />When the boy fell to dream,<br />Ramage would shine a beam<br />Of light to the gate-lodge sill.<br />Bean would come to the ledge,<br />Drop down to the hedge<br />And progress, led on by his will.<br /><br />Bean would then climb the stairs<br />To the tower, unaware<br />Of the danger he faced each night.<br />For in love one is blind<br />And he left behind<br />His reason in place of his light.<br /><br />They would meet in the chamber,<br />As the fires turned to embers.<br />As wood turned to ash in the night.<br />There they’d embrace,<br />The other’s kisses they’d chase<br />And set their humours alight.<br /><br />So entranced they would be,<br />That they failed to see<br />The boy, supposed sleeping next door.<br />He’d creep out of bed,<br />As hushed as he dead,<br />And sneak a look through the crack near the floor.<br /><br />The boy had been preached,<br />To a god he’d beseeched<br />To forgive his sins great and small.<br />He knew what he saw,<br />Through the crack near the floor,<br />A sin – the worst if them all.<br /><br />And so, Bean and Ramage,<br />Unaware, undisparaged,<br />Continued to meet by the stars.<br />They hushed their kisses,<br />Kept quiet hearts wishes,<br />Only stole day lit looks from afar.<br /><br />One night while they met,<br />The Boy Prince crept<br />From his bed and down the back stair.<br />Along torch lit galleries,<br />Sweat drenched and heart hammering<br />With the weight of his God-given care.<br /><br />The boy told the King,<br />Who sent bells to ring.<br />Sent the hounds to smell out the sin.<br />They were found in the tower,<br />And overwhelmed by the power<br />Of men scared of the passions within.<br /><br />Ramage and Bean,<br />Closed down their scene -<br />They were hung at the first light of dawn.<br />Their ropes swung side-by-side.<br />Bodies flung to the tide.<br />Their love caused their curtain to fall.<br /><br />No applause for this tale,<br />No “Lights up!” no hails<br />For performances beautifully played.<br />For this God fears the might<br />Of loves forced to the night.<br />He’d rather an empty, cold stage.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-22566125336885393022008-11-05T14:15:00.000-08:002008-11-05T14:16:23.527-08:00Geography<span style="color:#663300;">Bending backs over washboards. Emily watched as They were lined up in the courtyard to have their wings clipped. Some of the girls struggled against the grip of the Grounds-men. The boys seemed to have been broken long ago. Faces sallow like hollow skins on greengages. The man with the clippers had hands covered in scars, snips and remnants from more resistant works. Feathers were strewn over the cobbles, blood in an abattoir.<br />The Picker-boys would be let in to collect them later. The down feathers would be separated from the ones with strong spines and sold for the pillows of rich men’s beds. Perhaps to be reunited with their owners in moments of bought lust. There were dealers for the large feathers who would distribute the produce to quill makers, dressmakers, alchemists, other merchants and the occasional architect. The prices would be high, and not in gold.<br /><br />Bells chime for passing hours like empty mouths at the table, little bird tongues poking to caterpillar suppers. Tower scratches the skin of old skies and lets it bleed to night. Emily watches until the clippers stop biting and They are lead back to their chambers. And the walls stop echoing the snip-snuck sound of deadened flight.<br /><br />Emily woke from the silk-stocking reverie and into the sharp cold evening, a bat in a washhouse. Off the wall she dropped and down into the alley between the East and West Houses. Billowing cloak and the noise of velvet in air.<br /><br />String songs run around the valley-crevices of her ears. Chasing others tails and singing folk prayers of the night before. She could follow them to the back of the library and through the pages of old geography books - swallow the scribbles from the margins of maps. And change full stops round so they make a constellation sky on her forearm. Ready for some clouded figure to trace with a beetle-shell finger. Over-long and wheezing a little eulogy of bending calcium before it cracks into a million oily surfaced fragments over her sky. All the while the other hand tightly round her wrist, whitening the skin.<br /><br />Emily fell away into the darkness, moving quickly down the alley. There was a drop into the lower quarter ahead. A steep precipice over fifty feet that divided the city between the Winged district and the Soil Half, titles now redundant after everything had turned. Emily ran and leaped off the edge into the sky. For a moment the lower city swung beneath her in a gasp of cold night air, laced with the heavy scents of other peoples evening cook pots. Then a flash of white feathers and she was away and up, scooped by the air itself and welcomed to the vast canvas of stars above her.<br /><br />The They stays in her head like a handful of lead and her eyes follow the lights of some unwashed hand that holds a handful of her grandmother’s feathers. The feathers that keep her up and that bring Them plummeting to the ground. They feed the bellies of the dead with their feathers of lead and take her by the neck to the place of beginning and first flight. The tower that steals time from her back hour by hour and turns milky-eyes sour, the curdling skin peels and falls to the ground from a height. And Emily breathes away the string songs and her white wings are swallowed by the night.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340516704789393118.post-41678844000627636692008-10-23T15:36:00.000-07:002008-12-16T05:26:49.206-08:00Insects<span style="color:#663300;">This is me; stroking the back of a grasshopper to read your fortune,<br />This is me; cutting the veins from my arms and lacing them to make a net<br />To trap scores of butterflies hopeless in fog.<br />This is me; spreading my toes out and in so I don’t fall.<br />Into the abyssal mess they call forgotten.<br />This is me; lying and lying and linking in letters of salt.<br />I am sighing not singing when the boy plays the piano so well.<br />So so well. He runs his keys up my shoulders and rumbles my neck with his chords.<br />This is me; reaching out with tweezers into thick-as-dough shadows, attempting a hold.<br />Weightless and swallowing lead.<br />This is me; a wire figure on a table edge – stuck upright with tac.<br />This is me; breathing my secrets into the ear of a crow<br />But they catch on the feathers and stay.<br />Then they fly.<br />And my nets are too heavy with insects to trap them back.<br />And I read the grasshopper too hard and<br />Break its back on the heart-line.</span>Kirsty Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12689642802326334202noreply@blogger.com1