My Diary: Music Coming From Far Away Clouds

I got up too early and found June coiled into a spring inside a fob watch case‭; ‬I had a breakfast in a caddy field watching faces emerge from the water and rise upwards,‭ ‬their lips imitating fish mouths‭ ‬-‭ ‬I noticed the little girl in a large dress was clapping from the safety of a history book‭ (‬I was surprised to find it was written in prehistory‭)‬.‭ ‬After jumping up and down inside a glass jar,‭ ‬June and I went out for a plastic bag dinner.‭ ‬We took the healing snake route to town after we found the inn on horseback was full.‭ ‬We found a restaurant in a snail shell‭ (‬with red lip windows and unhearing ears for doors‭) ‬and then waited too long for our meal.‭ ‬We came home together‭ (‬June normally takes a diversion down shopping aisles‭) ‬followed by antelope royalty effortlessly jumping between the clouds.


My Diary: Ships Coming From Smoke On The Horizon

June and I got up,‭ ‬for once,‭ ‬together‭; ‬I had my breakfast in the tumble dryer while she sat in the fridge‭ ‬-‭ ‬coming out moments before an intercity express train hurtled through it on its way to an unknown microwave oven in London.‭ ‬Inside the carriage a robot child touched the dial of its valve radio ancestor and the train guard pulled back the still growing beard of King Henry the Eighth before it got stuck in the emergency alarm chain‭ ‬-‭ ‬the man dressed in grey put a y in a noughts and crosses game.‭ ‬As the light dimmed I plugged in a candle while watching an Eighteenth Century farmer take his livestock to market on the edge of a Twenty First Century town.‭ ‬I pushed a bouquet of flowers inside an old fashioned television and June tuned a cooking apple to the country and western channel.

My Diary: Finding Squares Where There Should Have Only Been Circles

I had to leave the house early although this time June got up before me.‭ ‬She had covered herself with wallpaper and was trying on family photographs to see which one best suited her.‭ ‬I covered my face in emulsion paint and dripped a line to the bus stop.‭ ‬As I boarded the gasping for breath bus I noticed that the collared doves where perched apart.‭ ‬After a stop on a military side drum I found my way to my childhood home‭ ‬-‭ ‬all the houses had letters of the Greek alphabet instead of numbers.‭ ‬I waved to the gamma ray lady before meeting the Zeus person in the Epsilon house.‭ ‬We made small talk in a very large space and then both said goodbye to the walls‭ (‬all but one wall ignored us and talked instead to the ceiling‭)‬.

My Diary: The Relative State Of Existence

I watched June go out,‭ ‬my hands in the air like the god of all four winds stuck in the fifth dimension.‭ ‬After a breakfast sat before a cyclops Poppy and I retraced the steps of the parking meter pilgrims‭ (‬before all linear movements are replaced by curved ones‭) ‬and made a loop within a loop before returning home via superposed spirals.‭ ‬I worked within concrete clouds for a time,‭ ‬June contacting me with a gravel phone‭ ‬-‭ ‬we talked with words as fluid as wet cement.‭ ‬I then returned to my contradictory mythological science existence‭; ‬writing about the future with the symbolic remains of extinct organisms.‭ ‬I wondered again about time loops and spirals with an image in my head of dinosaurs mulling over the imprint of a computer found in a newly exposed rock face.

My Diary: Freedom Found In Captivity

June went to town dressed in spent matchsticks and astride a giant white swan that our neighbour keeps tethered in his back garden‭ ‬-‭ ‬this is the neighbour who opens his mouth and a cavalcade of small cars drive out‭ (‬they are then invariably frightened off by a cinema usherette with torch lights instead of eyes who lives in the garden shed‭)‬.‭ ‬As June shrunk in size on the decidedly urban page which doubles as a shopping list I gathered up my countryside clothes and balanced on top of a semiquaver from a forgotten manuscript‭; ‬I fell off half way through the main melody only to be then knocked over by the counterpoint.‭ ‬By the time June had returned home with a slither of landscape caught in her coat I had pushed my hands into a bucket of wet sand and my feet had got a bit part in a spaghetti western.‭

My Diary: The Behemoth In An Ice Cube

I tried to get back to sleep after waking with a big cat sat on my chest‭ (‬I think it was a mountain lion as it was wearing a square patterned shirt‭) ‬and finding the curtains resembled a hand maiden of Cleopatra cleaning out a commode.‭ ‬June had become a sizable section of the South Downs National Park with a picturesque formation of white clouds floating just above her head‭ ‬-‭ ‬she had always thought out loud in her sleep.‭ ‬I conjured up a scene for a play I will never write where a demon frantically searches for the stopcock after hell gets flooded and then decided to get up.‭ ‬A twenty millimetre cannon was attached to the top of my head and my fingers had been transformed into lasers as I went downstairs reciting the first words uttered by our earliest ancestor:‭ ‬apparently it was help‭!

My Diary: Drowning In A Sea I Created Myself

I walked June up the curled up road with both of us wearing breakfast bowls for shoes.‭ ‬I left her at the door in a gate and walked back home carrying a splinter as large as a tree.‭ ‬I later sculpted this into the likeness of the Virgin Mary holding a Barbie doll‭ ‬-‭ ‬I signed it with a feather from a pet moa which I had christened the New Zealand rugby team and then climbed down one of the well known board game snakes while giraffes climbed up the ladders to reach the tops of trees.‭ ‬Finding I had three hands I put two in pockets and signed my name on a football hat with the third just before a young emissary of the magic mirror people came along and kicked it‭ ‬-‭ ‬in her world pipes smoke old men and the sky turns blue at sunset.