‘The wood green’
October 3rd 2013
Portsmouth – London – Portsmouth
National Poetry Day
Awake at 4am – up at 6am 2 hours spent working thru stuff in my head with virtual paint and pencils – best of all no clearing up – then I type
When I look you
in the eye
and tell you
I love you
It will hurt me more
than I ever will you
set free on Twitter to many RT’s – up – dress –
tea
ready for
Train with mist and poetry
Blustery day
Maybe shifting sand
So I am Wearing my
Coat of
Social interactions
To keep me dry
before
Entering
Wifi absence
I watch sheep
Against green grey
Thru watery lenses
Nose hard pressed
Against cold
Train
Window joy
forever I will sit on the beach
stones in hands
looking out to sea
for a social hoped escape
moved by tides
that will never float ashore
Torn between worlds
My imposed half life lock-in
held safe I yearn towards
the solitude of trees
and
self gathering
Isolation for
warmth
yet
there is compelling beauty
joy in the movement
of her refreshment trolley
returned in reverse
towards the end of our journey
London in the gloom – rain – slight but meaningful laces my shirt with star patterns obvious – today is going to be a good day for patterns – first Wellcome Trust – sit – document – look about – sit in Loo in darkness as light fails
cant find way out of building
Tube – tick – tick – tick to a new line to a never visited before stop – I have directions to meeting place – BBC – early so afford the luxury off pattern finding outside tube station entrance – up to BBC – get a snack while waiting – they are caught up but I text back I am OK – lots of patterns in the floor and trees outside – take may pictures ready looking towards the ‘Horizon’.
Collected – enter – sign in – Meeting starts in the huge BBC foyer in a pod – explaining on both sides and an hour soon goes by – ‘aspergers – autism – insight – Interesting – maybe – just maybe – we will see – leave after thankyou’s intact
Back to the Tube
now
opening of show
at Bow
I have work in this one
Again a new stop – today I am collecting new stops – here early – in – they haven’t displayed the work quite right – I ask and I redo ready – people arrive – many people – so many people – some who will talk to me some who wont – no matter – discover my raincoat useless at the onslaught and wish for the dry – soon its packed like a tube train – claustrophobic – I leave for the ‘outside’ but not before I spy someone vandalise my piece – he moves my work to the back of the plinth and puts his ‘busness cards’ in its place!? – I move in oblivious to all the people pressing and repair – mission – I have your name – email – twitter name etc – why? I move away indignant – trapped I wait for official opening talks – then leave – the rain on my face a welcome relief although I did have one conversation with someone that was meaningful which made all the ‘social trauma’ worth while
‘darkness folds’
Soon driverless trains
move me south to Waterloo
where she is waiting
and I return
most of me
home
