My Diary: Waking Up As A Statue In A Park

I followed the anthropomorphic marks on the ground with my bare toes and then pulled a mobile phone over my head and shoulders‭ ‬-‭ ‬the glow of light emitting diodes reminded me of my time at the Olympus holiday park being a naked cup bearer to the gods‭ ‬-‭ ‬I turned the page over of the book I had been eating and walked the pavement as if I was the sole sentry in a besieged castle.‭ ‬After flying to a vegetable patch to get greens for a family of pigeons I had hidden in my breast pocket I settled down to work inside a replica of the Statue of Liberty.

My Diary: I Had The Haywain For Breakfast

I got up for a change with the head of a pony‭ ‬-‭ ‬June had long gone up the hill sat in her own private wagon of barley straw.‭ ‬After calling the animals houses I delivered their mail and then walked the dog along adjoining tunnels‭ ‬-‭ ‬I noticed hers was lit while mine remained dark.‭ ‬I had to go out before lunch with an old and older man and we stopped to look at a place where people looked at us before arriving before time at the site where all black and white chess pieces merged to grey.‭ ‬We ate in a chequered room while outside the sun shone through clawing trees like a curious torch light through the pelvic bones of a long extinct mammal.‭ ‬It shone on the oldest man and we followed the ley lines between ancient and modern all‭ ‬the way home‭ ‬-‭ ‬all the while balancing sea lions on our rose red noses

My Diary: Being Run Over By An Armoured Car

Strange as it seems I woke in a room made of paper,‭ ‬wrote a scribbled note across the bed sheets and then down over the floor,‭ ‬reaching the door with a squiggle.‭ ‬As the walls were curling up at the edges I left the paper doily house and tossed a coin in the turntable garden.‭ ‬Neither heads or tails came up but somewhere in between.‭ ‬As a negative image I put fig leaves in my wallet and waited for another record to be played‭ ‬-‭ ‬above the clouds struggled with their seat belts in a racing car sky.‭ ‬I collected living testaments to the power of photosynthesis for the rabbit,‭ ‬who was sat admiring his brethren as they sat like the crenations of the Crusaders castle as it was about to fall to the forces of Saladin,‭ ‬and then went upstairs as a positive image to write more words on the walls of my long dead room.

My Diary: Building A House From The Roof Down

I woke once in the night to see small figures floating across the room from the partly open window to the partly closed door.‭ ‬I looked at the dog,‭ ‬who had been changed into a musical instrument,‭ ‬and then at June who reminded me of a piece of driftwood in the slowly lapping water of a tropical shore‭; ‬the musical instrument played a Charlie Parker solo and then jumped down from the bed with the grace of a navvy tipping out a wheelbarrow of bricks.‭ ‬I got up to the sound of voices as if the frescoes in the Church at Assisi could talk while all artists remained silent.‭ ‬I called my clothes Giotto and my naked body a comet as I dressed in the vault of the World’s first space bank‭; ‬the fat cat and I later took off as the countryside of my childhood was reduced to a blurred image on a computer screen.

My Diary: The World’s First Psychedelic Mummy

This was a strange day,‭ ‬which I started squat inside a highly decorated sarcophagus made for a mummified cheese sandwich.‭ ‬June had gone to work hidden within a bouquet of flowers carried by a complete stranger‭; ‬he put her down by a bag of old coins and went off to catch a steam train.‭ ‬I climbed down from the tangled remains of a now cold air balloon stuck in a rain forest tree house and attempted to teach religion to a flock of bird eating spiders.‭ ‬Meanwhile the dog,‭ ‬who had fallen in love with a particularly appealing blob of gravy on the side of her bowl stood still as a line of blind mice made an exclamation mark on the silent floor.‭ ‬I proclaimed my knife and fork as the next King and Queen of England and a portrait of Amelia Earhart took off and flew out of the room.

My Diary: Never Talk With Seaweed In Your Mouth

June worked again in the morning,‭ ‬we both walked up the leper road before the hand like trees on the horizon had unclenched their fists.‭ ‬After a breakfast spread out on a factory conveyor belt I walked the dog beside what I call the sleeping poet railway track,‭ ‬we began with the intention of writing an epic but returned after only a limerick‭ ‬-‭ ‬a young rustic called Mallory never woke.‭ ‬June came back with a face full of feathers,‭ ‬she spoke with primaries and fluttered her secondaries as the couple next door went in with a prefabricated whale carcass and proceeded to cover it with crosses.‭ ‬June and I are noughts and rolled up the hill to see the elemental children in an elemental garden.‭ ‬I thought in pictures and June spoke in ocean waves:‭ ‬a ship coming in floundered on the rocks.

My Diary: On When I Swallowed A Torch And Lit Up Inside

June went to work‭ ‬in a chariot pulled by tabby cats.‭ ‬I stood in front of the mirror as Balder but saw Loki.‭ ‬I then pulled a small world from above my head and placed it in an auroch hoof print in the immortal garden‭ ‬-‭ ‬once a flower is planted it never fades.‭ ‬I told the postman I was awaiting news and then read my letters as a stream of water instead of carefully folded paper.‭ ‬I couldn’t help thinking that the couple next door had a carefully folded life as they sang Germanic hymns on the Scharnhorst when it sank off the Falklands during the First World War.‭ ‬Later,‭ ‬I took the cast of a production of Twelfth Night for mammal like reptiles and put them in the greenhouse as it hurriedly put on a tutu for a cold garden ballet‭ ‬-‭ ‬I had promised to watch the matinee.