Underworld; 21.03.2018


Monday 26th December


It’s unusually still outside beyond that loud jazz coming from
the kitchen – something trad with a Christmas flavour, prolongs
a cosy feeling of cocoon where we all floated smiling,
“This is a great day, thank you”.
Today I got goosebumps in another room, listening to
James ‘Blood’ Ulmer. Cherishing the quiet of a phone-less morning
when even the electric pipe stops flooding time with mail.
Where loaded words lie motionless like greyhounds waiting for the gun
& the images that dance across the backs of eyes are simple,
don’t collide or crash or screech or howl.
Clear direction in a low & modest voice is all they give today,
in the amnesty between years,
like plants quietly replenishing the world with oxygen.


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