She’s a woman, lives alone, now that all her kids are grown
(classroom students — not her own — she never married);
and the company she keeps might give other folk the creeps —
pigeons treasured and there’s even one who’s carried.
They are flying rats, some say, but this…
(Sound of music — Tubular Bells. A goat bleats)
What’s the goat for?
(goat bleats again)
It doesn’t like that — the way he’s gripping its head.
It won’t matter, shortly.
What do you mean…?
Oh. Was that entirely necessary?
Hey — I’m here (jazz-hands, baby)
What would you do without me?
Fall apart. Hah.
The one you’ve been looking for.
God Particle — no Mass
without me. My congregation
of protons, photons, electrons,
wild neutrinos nattering
as they scatter through matter
like a hailstorm of fireflies.
Your boffin, bright bloke –
the one with the famous equation –
understood flip-sides, atom-bomb logic
to some extent.
reality is pixelated,
pips that, when crash-bang-walloped,
as nothing more than energy.
This cosmos is a grand concept
suns of suns, children of stars,
formed from one super-condensed crumb
a whopping explosion —
and I was free, free, free
like a genie released, my geniality
binding together particles in space-fabric-time:
muons and gluons
in the depths of infinity.
Am I brave? Well, I don’t dare go up a ladder, had to sleep with the light on for weeks after watching ‘The Exorcist’ and I’m scared of crane-flies.
But in a questionable situation, something prompts me to act.
I recall a trivial instance a few years ago in which…
Our bedroom may well be the noisiest place in the universe. If it isn’t aircraft zooming overhead, it’s the heating pipes tic-tac-tacking all flippin’ night or the cats hissing at each other, jumping onto the chest of drawers and knocking over the water jug.
Then there’s hubby, god bless him…
Samlesbury Hall — Beautiful, Historic…and one of the most haunted places in Britain.
There’s a broken-hearted lady, they say, who walks the grounds of Samlesbury Hall. Her name is Dorothy Southworth and she was alive during the 1600s when there was a great deal of religious intolerance. …
I’m not categorically saying God doesn’t exist. I’m not saying He/She/It does. But it occurred to me that there are quite a few design elements on this earth that are somewhat unpleasant:
Every month women of childbearing age have to go through this ordeal. Periods are unpleasant, inconvenient…
If it were possible to set up a time-lapse camera on a very slow release — say, one frame every half a million years — what spectacles might blossom forth? A gradual morphing from one form to another: digits elongating to become the framework for wings, scales fraying into feathers…