In equal measure though maybe without the structures of meter the universal psyche can intrude upon, spy, observe, eavesdrop, plagiarise and pilfer dry wit down to earth devilishly side splitting gag swops or a cabal loitering on the fringes.
Of an old hutch of any kind or its equivalent.
Nameless entities swing rhythmic as a juggernaut of areas under one area appear more like some mini microcosm or universe downsized.
A dwelling can be that tilted, tottering, transient, it can be that carrier pigeon of named occupants of bizarre nomenclature, or names prosaic that vanish without a tiniest trace into a vacuous atmosphere voracious in its appetite for a nothingness.
“if only I could put a finger to what’s going on.
I observe, scan, peruse, absorb.
Sponge like absorption in an entranced ritual careening like a rickety road vehicle swaying in cantankerous unpredictable anarchic fashion.
From a distance this desperation may have the illusion of collating diverse disparate fragments of thoughts in any context that maybe on a rudderless quest for a context being either decontextualised or absently minded plonk to be dumped like rubbish in a recycling bin whose fate we can only subject to conjecture.
A jolt huge earthquake of a jolt that had my reflections on abodes of any kind momentarily feeling that a spectacular incandescent comet … this is a jubilant jittery jolt that had this miracleous high speed chase to pressurise me as if I was the diving course or the human, some say a noisome nagging numbskull with a yellow flare streak of hybrid shade goes on a furious spark flying downhill daredevilish helskelster.
The old hutch can accommodate though not entirely always facilitate what goes into it gingerly with no apparent escape hatch for character or figure whose author and keeper have successfully sequestered or sheltered their identity.
As for this old hutch as such, thank you very much if cluttered dwellings or compartments lurch and may seem out of character but inhabitants as one can delineate the insiders without betraying this enigmatic pantheon..
“Awake from SCREAMING NIGHTMARE that’s in fact devoid of sleep pact
as the old hutch of misty side of mountain mythology is sunken inside my shrinking skull.
Dedicated to my most wonderful sister
Jay A Pallen who made this extract possible