THE DRUM, THE DANCER,

THE AUDIENCE

Black bin liner, inside out,

filled with wind, anchored

at the rim of a cast iron bin.

Close your eyes.

It is a snare drum playing

polyrhythms to the morning.

Accents, flams, ruffs,

and silences that hold the sounds

together, keep them free.

Open your eyes.

The dancer takes the place

of your imagination. Clicking

fingers, intakes of breath

as each highlight flashing

momentarily denotes a change

in time signature, testing

the concentration, captivating.

Better go soon. The commuters

are almost here, with their spoilsport

tactic of getting in the way,

not realising these dances-in-the-wind

will never, cannot ever be repeated.

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Names variously engender style, charm,

wit, warmth, control, subtlety, flair,

passion, love, adventure, courage.

They come from every direction

you care to look. Some are still with us.

Many more are yet to appear below, to

join these writers who enrich the world.

Dante Alghieri (1265-1321)

Moliere (1622-1673)

Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)

Lord Byron (1788-1824)

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849)

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

Edward Lear (1812-1888)

Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880)

Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1821-1881)

George Innes (1825-1894)

R.D.Blackmore (1825-1900)

Emily Dickenson (1830-1886)

Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)

Charles Altamont Doyle (1832-1893)

Bjornstjerne Bjornson  (1832-1910)

Ion Creanga (1837-1889)

Joachim Maria Machado de Assis (1839-1908)

Dmitri Sinodi-Popov (1855-1910)

Minakata Kumagusu (1867-1941)

Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931)

Dame Agatha Christie (1890-1976)

Grahame Greene (1904-1991)

Laurie Lee (1914-1997)

Kiffin Williams (1918-2006)

Anne Sexton (1928-1974)

Max Clifford (1943-    )

Karen Armstrong (1944-    )

Thom Jones (1945-    )

Stephen Knight (1951-1985)

DeBarra Mayo (1953-    )

Kathy Sierra (1957-    )
Caroline Page (1958-    )

Jago Eliot (1966-2006)

Can you name all the works they have written,

count the numbers of folks they have inspired?

Can you name the shared experience

that links the brains of these great writers?

Yes. The name of the brain condition is Epilepsy.

Note: a more interesting list can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_with_epilepsy#Art_and_writing

ACROSS THE BRIDGE

AND BACK AGAIN

Steel and alloy running

through chunks of air

you can imagine to be anything

of your choice. Neural networks

in cerebrospinal fluid. Some combining

to provide endless surprises.

Personal space can insulate

or host cognitive adventure

on this ninety metre return journey,

the bridge’s structure unchanged

when one returns with incalculable

new connections in one’s brain.

Relish the insights made available

to you. Celebrate.

VOICES

Yesterday's waterfall was paradiddles on peat,

soggy backbeat.

Today is raining fit to flood. The moors are

storing enough to release another rhythm.

Perhaps tomorrow will play bossa nova.

That I would die for.

First published at http://alexandarshippocampus.blogspot.com, 2009

TO THE SUPERSTITIOUS

AND AFRAID

words fell

from out of your face

they

told me epilepsy was caused
by demonic possession

even mentioned the Salem witches

who were only victims

words fell

from out of your face

they

splattered me against the barrier

erected by society

then seemed to lose their potency

as I meditated

re-formed themselves into a vision

of a world without stigma

I

took possession of this possibility

committed to memory

it

will return to nullify your mythology

when actuality rules

TO COME....

I made thunderous the word whisper

by not muting it

Shhhh, listen as I tell you of an actuality

that’s on its way....

SECOND ATONIC SEIZURE

The bus journey

was a silver-green-brown-fudge

of passing images triggering me

into little blanks

Steps became spongy

downhill then uphill

seeking a destination

recently dis-remembered

I was pushing myself up from a gutter

Nothing was hurting

The dual-carriageway empty

except for two figures

heading my way. I swayed.

Frame of specs bent at the bridge

dirt on shoulder, knee, knitted beanie, no blood

Don’t try to get up, how you didn’t, how he didn’t,

dropped straight on his face, are you hurt?

Do you want an ambulance? Yes please

First a paramedic in a car, then an ambulance

We’ll take it from here

Are you sure you can walk? Yes

Arms extended like a zombie, staring at the ramp

A blank

The tentative shuffle entering A&E

Take your time
I have a medical ID card

scowl

please look at my ID

scowl

on the top of my A&E notes it has

LOOK AT THIS MAN’S MEDIC-ALERT

scowl

accepted the card

doctor told me to lie down

After some more silver-green-brown-fudge

the same man discharged me

I don’t remember anything else