Untitled

I am feeling
unthinkable, naughty thoughts that ought to set my brain on fire but oddly don't.
Instead, I feel
things I can't describe but will try anyway.
I will reduce what I feel to a steel chair in a butchery.
A pigeon eating a crumb of my scone.
A carpet made by a Jacaranda tree.
It sure is warm in here. But deathly cold, too.
I apologise to Ms Collins but it really is either/or and not a matrix.
Not a matrix at all.
No. A matrix of feelings.
Up AND down. Guilt AND excitement.
I am in the middle of my so-called intellectual development and all I feel is
you.

- Trish

Being there

I am sitting in the front room,
And all my fibres are waiting for you,
To come and electrify the air that surrounds us,
To switch on the TV;

I am laughing with you,
We are soaring up above our house & looking down at the settee,
Floating just above our animated bodies sometimes; glistening there,
We glide like ice and like water we melt into each other,

We are surrounded by a lake of shine,
Marooned on our tiny and beautiful lost island,
I can't help but think...
We are far happier than all the lonely boats out there...

- Pippa