My Diary

June was out in the dark writing poems with cat’s eyes. I painted a line over the bridge and on up the hill and then tried to follow it all the way back again – note: hobgoblins are born at the places where the lines divide (I thought about taking a hobgoblin bride and then remembered I was married). June came back in the middle of the afternoon riding a giant pair of dentures; after a moments thought we decided to eat our way to town. I got indigestion as we passed the old station.

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My Diary

I was up very early, June wasn’t feeling very well and laid in bed watching the screen that suddenly appeared. I took a trip on a pink flamingo and arrived in a small sitting room with a book of records. We broke all we could and then donned masks before the launch from the hidden fireplace. On returning home again I found June lazing on a rock with rusty chains disappearing underneath the water. The mad Mexican danced on an oval mat and I searched my pocket for the time.

My Diary

It was milder in the cave mouth; I played musical chairs with the dragon and then walked June to work (the little man in the entrance of the strangers home announced the time in Addis Ababa as we approached with wrist watches for eyes). Back in the cave I pulled woollen socks over tree branches and scattered cushions shaped like giant land tortoises on the marbled floor. I managed to get a little work done before riding a wooden train set to the farm shop to buy hay to fall on.

My Diary

Long hair was trailing all over the garden as I opened the curtains to count the money boxes sheltering on the window ledge; I remembered pictures of soldiers in uniforms of the early Nineteenth Century as I rearranged the empty cans so that their lids reflected the light into one tiny square in the centre of the room. I was the guitar player and I walked in vain trying to find a few square centimetres of camouflage to hide under (the spirit percussionist wasn’t available to play a tune on a puddle at the road edge).

My Diary

I walked in the middle of the road collecting stones in a pair of laddered stockings; cars crawled beside me with the children inside changed into plastic bricks. I had to go to Snow Town to buy some leaves which will stick out of snow drifts like ears; I saw the desert princess and we exchanged the cardboard inserts from new shirts. When I returned home I was one size smaller (when June returned home she was the lady in waiting to a Tudor monarch) – we put the DVD in.

My Diary

I got up in the middle of the night with my mouth and lips several feet across, I drew the curtains and an unblinking eye filled the entire window space. I took a large breath and turned the heating on. June and I later crept out of the fox hole with our tails glowing – I lit a hieroglyphic morning while the drummer used icicles instead of drum sticks. The band walked on down the hill as we got ready to go out. I walked back to the bee hive to hear the buzz coming from inside.

My Diary

It was a dark, early and very cold Christmas morning when June and I walked along the blade of a fret saw, she went straight to the heartwood but I skirted round the edge coming back later to walk the dog on the remains of the plank (my friend Peter flew overhead). We found a large black bird in the woods and crept inside, a log fire was burning and we crawled in glass test tubes to get warm. I sat in an old boot while the others practiced their take off routines for later in the day.