I’ve been giving my Soundcloud site a little attention. There are one or two earlier recordings there, but I’ve also just uploaded a reading of a short new poem called ‘Slow Dance’.
I wrote this as part of a short writing course I attended recently at Dundee University given by the excellent Lindsay MacGreggor (Lindsay has just published a new pamphlet called ‘Weepers’)
Charm troubled trouble,
and improbable friend.
Six years after you departed,
but finger counting back,
decades out of touch.
Dodging past shadows
to reprint you – upswept
and skipping gravity.
One hand standing, when
you joshed the world aloft,
as easy as sweat.
Prowling baton points
Rifling air in appetite,
Yaw sickle curves,
Sinewed barley scallops,
As light and sure
Together or alone, Carrot
Is mostly a dog walker’s hill.
You can see the three trees from Fife.
But today it’s hoar fog and grey winds.
Twelve roses are anchored at the shelter.
Where someone remembered yesterday.
This poem was partly inspired by an article by Laura Spinney ‘The time illusion: how your brain creates now’. (New Scientist, 10th January 2015).
Just how long is ‘now’? It seems that, for most of us, our ‘experienced moment’ is probably of a few seconds duration.
Scientists believe that the experience we call ’now’ takes a little longer than the time required for our senses to be affected by changes in the world. And slightly longer again is needed to create a flowing sensation of continuity.
Of course our perception of this flow of time varies. Sometimes when we are most focussed – meditating, fearful or highly excited, time itself can seem to move more slowly, as our brains race to catch every single beat…