All entries for Friday 24 March 2006
March 24, 2006
News from the halls of the powerful:
The secret chiefs of the order, in ceremonial
suits and ties, have spent months in a
boardroom visionary trance. It is engendered.
By the forest of Arden, in a nook near Coventry,
they will bury it: the DNA of a hermit crab,
the seed of the Prime Minister, some voodoo
free marketry and a dash of "dynamism".
Months later, they dig it from the ground:
a plate glass exoskeleton, a monstrously
postmodernist splice of ideologies. It must be fed
with a thousand fresh young things from the suburbs…
We have become its blood and shit;
its cells, its instincts, its secret urges.
In the season that hangs an inch above spring
we're waiting for it to drop a bomb of daffodils,
radiate sunshine and tingly breezes.
Of course, we live just inside the shadow of such a world,
just inching under the international date line.
And we ought to so this – to lie on grass and twigs,
freeze toes in the dew and worship the capricious sun.
We are young after all, however cynical,
always busy losing innocence we never had.
There is mystery, wisdom and freedom
in the curve of the swan, the audacity of the mallard.
We think and feel like the lake, dark and
unknowable, troubled and shimmering.
Nothing answers solitude like this. I inch
into my memories and time plays backwards –
I unmeet my friends, unsit my GCSEs.
We are languid cats now
stretching out into our equinox.