October 09, 2007

Untitled entry

A girl laughs in a red telephone box that has no glass.
The glass is on the floor, broken.
A hawthorn leaved with sparrows glints in the evening glow and is mirrored a thousand times in the shards upon the ground.
The girl is me.
I am happy. Free.
The other girl watching me is listening.
The sparrows raise a deafening lullaby to the dying sun but it is not enough to drown my words.
I turn my head; she drops her eyes…..

The graceful glide of the receiver echoes the crescendo of the song


the birds shiver and rise as one, stripping the hawthorn of its undulating cloth –


the receiver reverberates against the rusting red frames and the dust settles.

Held in that dusty air, nothing happens. I’m suddenly very aware of my bare legs and red toenails out of place in that shimmering no-man’s land.

Another bus arrives, stops sharply, unexpectedly, surprised to find people on that desolate track. We get onto the yellow bus. Silence full of noise.
I don’t look at her, I do not know whether she is looking at me and I go on with my life.

That silence becomes a sweat that everyday hangs heavier upon my body, I wake to see her face, and in every crowd, cloud and looming corner.

A girl laughs in a red telephone box.
From outside the glass it looks like she is screaming.
That girl is empty; but that girl is me. Her wan laugh can not escape. Hollow.
Hunched up against the freshly painted red metal stares out.

Through the swathes of people not her face but that politely falling fringe, focused on a bag of apples. She hasn’t seen the tram. Abruptly gasping pulls up. One apple rolls across the floor. She doesn’t see it. I pick it up.



I know it’s over.

- 4 comments by 1 or more people Not publicly viewable

  1. can u refer to one entity as both this and that?? my head is still stuck in italian syntax!

    09 Oct 2007, 14:41

  2. just got internet, a few scribbles that i wrote on the train. not finished, very broken. not got to the dialogue bit yet. the gaps are in place of the crash of the receiver on the metal but i wanted to convey the silence that that sound reinforces and i cannot find the words…any ideas?

    10 Oct 2007, 00:46

  3. it looks very poetically promising :) although, to be entirely honest, i’m not all that sure what’s going on yet. although i actually really like the idea of a simple empty space on the page signifying the silence, if you can’t find the words, maybe they don’t want to be found :P good luck

    10 Oct 2007, 01:07

  4. hmmm…i like, some lovely snapshots of aesthetic anti-narrative. I particularly like a ‘silence full of noise’; i know its a cliche, but in the context of (dis)communication that the whole smashed up phone box thing seems to indicate (am i right there?) its a nice idea. I think you need to be careful here though – some of the descriptive writing seems to fall away from the narrative core, becoming a little superfluous – ‘The graceful glide of the receiver echoes the crescendo of the song’ – didn’t really do it for me. but, yeah, nice nonetheless.
    p.s. i’d really love to see you push the image of the smashed glass, the red phone box and the red painted nails together. not quite sure what i mean, but there seems to be a lot of inert symbolism waiting to do something there.

    28 Oct 2007, 23:30

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