Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Hypnopompic



This morning we woke to find the earth had a new skin.
Cold, opaque, so smooth we could not walk on it.
It had grown over the cars so we could not move them.
It was not as obdurate as thought, and wore thin by mid-afternoon.
The cars were wet, unskinned, and could be moved: tentative at first.
We coaxed ourselves along the roads, vigilant for lingering shreds.
Between tyre and tarmac is a place where friction makes a positive contribution.
Later, night brings a white hypnosis; in the headlights, falling, mellifluous, muffled, profuse, resolute.


5 comments:

  1. I really love 'white hypnosis.' There are these word combinations that you come up with that I love because they are at once novel and familiar. I don't think that's easy to do but you make it appear so.

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  2. I'm sorry that its still so cold for you guys!

    www.modernworld4.blogspot.com

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  3. Suze: Warming compliments! My novel yet familiar ways are the result of a brain that seems always a bit sideways anyway, and eons of practice. Often feels like the words find me, or are waiting patiently for me to notice them.
    Gina: We have the fire lit and stodgy food- and when the sun shines here we really really appreciate it! I checked out your blog- like your idea of giving numbers to commentators on posts, so the vulnerable can speak without fear of peer group reprisals.

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  4. Mr Bama: it's accumulated ice on the valve of an old milking machine. Weird & fabulous :-)

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