Wave Silo

“This is the way I do cut-ups - I don’t know if it’s like the way Brion Gysin does his, or Burroughs does his, I don’t know. But this is the way I do it” - David Bowie I Was Pianos (After W.H. Auden's 'Funeral Blues') Coffin, doves, black and dead, Cut off the wood, Pour away the mourners: Everyone's in gloves tonight And every dog's in love. Would the stars see me now? Pack up the traffic. Bring out the ocean. At noon I want a juicy rest With nothing overhead. Let the white necks of policemen Sing songs to my wrong. Stop the turning circle, Put out my telephone. Silence all the midnight, The midnight from my bone. Put crepe bows round the message: "Can Sunday come?" I was pianos. Let aeroplanes wear moaning, With a sky-working week. I thought: South, sun, Cotton, West, my East, Scribbling on the clocks, And my public He was good, and... With my muffled talk, Dismantle the moon. For now, prevent the last. Come North, barking, and drum f

Back in September 2015, I launched my writing residency at Library of Avalon. Part of the idea of the residency was that I would report back on what I was doing... well, we're three sessions in, so long past due for an update. At my first session proper (after a small workshop on the launch afternoon), on 23rd September, I was taken aback by the popularity of the event. I'd pictured myself sat quietly and more or less in solitude in a corner at the Library, taking my time to explore... in fact, I had a good half a dozen other people there with me - mostly for the whole three hours. I was coming in with what I hoped was an open mind as to the possibility of what might happen - in fact, this is the approach I try to take each session. I don't go in with anything much of a plan. I go to see what I will find. And - I found these people. So, for most of the session, we chatted, introducing ourselves to each other and casually sharing thoughts about writing. At one point, one