June 2010
7 posts
miauw! miauw! miauw! purrpurrpurr
they were worried about me. they saw my car but my curtains didn’t open all weekend. i feel blessed.
brilliant blue on the wing of the jay beckons me into the world
Three red-faced school children puff their way slowly through Pangbourne. Always at the back.
he settles down, finally, and gathers his brush tail in towards him. next to him on the carpet, a small brown leaf with a curled stalk.
driving alone, I say them out loud and taste their deliciousness: flushed chest. flushed chest. flushed chest.
fuschia-pink crinkled petals around a yolky splodgeone day we will plant them in our garden
September 2009
18 posts
oh cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel oh…. I love your cinnamon wafting scent and your salty dripping butter… oh cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel oh… (repeat)
In between scrambled eggs, Sunday papers and a pot of coffee, I probe her psyche with my sharp questions.
the lovely stink of petrol fills the car
the gift of an entire day of being alone - a diary page, a big empty white plate
I close my eyes and the orange sun is still there
Erin perched in the apple tree.
one of them was on anti-depressants six years later. one of them couldn’t live on her own any more and took turns staying with her daughters. one of them went straight back to work.
robin drifts from the hedge disguised as a leaf.
Dull day. Curled beige leaves appear in the lee of the hedge. The cats curl up on the sofa, refuse to budge.
After fifty minutes we find the word that sums it all up.
Sunday lunch = happy satiation
A squirrel moves across the lawn like seaweed in a current.
09/09/09
red jewels plucked from their beds and popped one by one in my mouth
Roast potatoes, with olives and love. Roast garlic. Celeriac mashed with love and double cream. Green beans chopped into love-sized pieces, dripping with butter. Love gravy. Love.
Fatty sits between me and the screen: he has a good point.
Autumn drawing in…
Fatty stretches out and leans against the back of my zafu for twenty minutes of cat-meditation (also known as a nap)
August 2009
21 posts
A small girl asks if she can stroke the pug. His owner smiles: she doesn’t bite. Smiles float through the pet lounge like butterflies.
My nana in the rear view mirror, dressed in white, getting smaller and smaller.
the noise of eight planes in formation shakes a flock of cheeping finches from the tree
head. brick wall. repeat repeat repeat
3 a.m. All is quiet. Stars. Cold plastic chair. Owl music.
flat out on my stomach, today the red ants don’t bite
Her arms are tattoo-ed, her black hair is hoisted into a high pony tail. Her fringe is a quiff. I want to be her friend. I want to be her.
beetroot water boils over and burns, turns the kitchen sweet
robin in the wingnut, chatter, chatter, trill
the weather is out there, lurking
hoverflies flick and float amongst the fennel stalks
faced with the moon, my mouth forms an ‘O’ by itself
mouse under the refrigerator, (huge) spider in the bath
between the noisy computer fan and the rising squeal of the washing machine it feels as if we’re getting ready for take-off
a heaped spoonful of blackcurrant jam hot sips of black earl grey a cuddle of the circle of sleeping cat
Single star. Brakelights glow. Headache bearing down.
There could be a gorgeous clot of cells inside your tum, intent on becoming a person.
(happy publication day to me)
God dropped a plum on me. Sweet.
impatiently waiting for the tomatoes to blush
cat with a scar on his nose rolls over and pwrrrrrrrrrrr!
July 2009
22 posts
his pride radiates and the rest of the group feel his sun on their faces
a sweeping movement snags attention: a billowing snowy flutterby
pale grey ovals pattern the newsprint, umbrellas and wellies come out
He hangs from Fatty’s mouth like a piece of luggage. Later I find him stretched out on his back, not a mark on him. Dried blood at his mouth.