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Record Investment
Why does he keep us? When will we ever be heard? What’s the point of filling these shelves? Packed, prominent but inert.
We’ve become part of the furniture, when once we were front and centre. The most invested thing in the room, his entire world, his very epicentre.
He used to pour over our gatefolds, stare as we spiralled round, carefully replace us in our sleeves, introduce us to his new...
Thursday 7th December 2023 2:18 pm
The Tracks Of My Years
The Tracks Of My Years
We sat cross legged in summer dusk
A smoky haze passing through
Admired artwork airbrushed
In fantastic swirls of colour
Reading words in synchronised
Staccato with the music
Flowing from the stereo
Simpler times
Longer hair
No aching joints
I wish we could do that again
But friends disappear like exhaled smoke
And some a...
Thursday 16th June 2022 7:30 pm
My father's gift
I remember hearing my father's voice
from beyond the grave.
No dream—a single, scratchy vinyl
had captured his characteristic
lilting, homiletic style,
that seemed,
in and of itself,
to be the message—
no surprises there,
nor flights,
yet a resonance
that touched
and stays with me
...
Friday 5th April 2019 2:17 am
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