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A tiger does not proclaim his tigritude, he pounces


Someone may be able to guess what today's photo is of, you can find them on a lot of streets around these parts.

I know that certain readers (well, one, hello Julie), have been asking for more poems, and I felt a bit guilty just stopping like that. But as I said before, poetry was only ever a diversion, as I generally consider myself a prose man. I've got books filled with little bits an pieces, beginnings of things, endings of things, dialogue, short stories, complicated narratives, simple word play, outlines of novels never written; you name it, I've started it.

So, instead of giving you a poem that I am probably less than happy with, I'd share an experiment in prose from the dark ages of 1998 that I remember liking at the time. I've edited it slightly, chopped a bit here, fiddled with a word there, so let's call this a "2008 re-mix". Now, some people might find this tricky to read, but my advice is to just let it flow, don't stop too long first run through because it's meant to run and run. That said, what would I know, the author is dead and all that jazz...

as long as the day is mine

and i never really knew what was going on but blue lights red lights all around so window open scarper down street wanting all the time find out fuss i never even knew the girl by now dirty cats in dark alley i feel sick need a drink need a smoke don't even smoke drinking down the drunken admiral send you my regards you're so tough you're so hard rain's coming down now sleep's well clear and the lights on sandy bay road stretch out and invite how i'd like to stop here right here with someone like you but there’s this gap between the things i want and the things i need watch out watch out don't trust anyone these days stevie got mugged got drugged got fucked up got dragged off so low profile the go and go i'd better but it's not my home it's their home so stop wait think think and think nothing of it of course if i were five years younger ten years prettier if i was fifteen how things would be different but it's the drink and the longing look longing for that look could it be could it be no up to your old tricks again never be trusted never be seen never saw always sore and every day every day every day full of loathing fear fear the fear the big thing and it's head in hands full of dread three o'clock morning cold darkness bright i'm thinking of you oh i do and i do but i don't even get along with myself and i've never felt so alone as i do right now how come someone hasn't noticed that i'm dead already it's not about me anymore it's the street it's the town it's the world it's just a state of mind a frame of reference a prophecy from a drunk late last friday and all it took was a dark haired girl from karlsruhre to open up his eyes but he used to be a sweet boy now a disgrace not too long not too long left there's this burning and it's burning something down inside breathe it in deep breathe breathe deep deep breath if only summer would last forever i'd swear i'd feel much better be much happier but it’s rain and i'm wet and it doesn't and i don't and i don't think i ever will and i never will so it's cold and i'm cold but not minding fresh air clearing for brain's clearing out and i'm up and i'm up and i'm ready to go but i'm up and i'm sick and i'm not the man you think i am mess of my life breathing still breathe still breathing still waiting still night air cold damp cement cold night i've lost i've lost out empty streets empty cars empty thoughts lights low looked like a little bit of reality but the days seem longer the night is colder and everything is that little different my mother told me no and there be blood on the streets tonight i'll love you 'till the day i die but i can't trust you these days these nights no-one knows exactly what they're doing where they've been where they're going and here and here i'll stay i think i'll just fade away to a scrap of nothing and nothing matters and nothing is real anymore and I just think that if I get fifteen minutes sleep i’ll feel much better

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Comments

USelaine said…
Wow, Kris. Sleep really is a precious gift, on the order of clean water or air. Poor guy. You won't be finishing any Joycean novels while sleep deprived, that's for sure. You know, some people, if they have any kind of financial buffer, will take an unpaid leave of absence, or, the lucky ones, will arrange for a break of some weeks between leaving one job and starting another. Hard to serve anyone, anywhere, without rest.
27 September 2008 at 17:29
Sue said…
Is your picture of traffic lights...looking from beneath them?
27 September 2008 at 17:52
Uma por Dia said…
They are traffic lights!
Wonderful angle :)
27 September 2008 at 21:38
sonia a. mascaro said…
Just dropping by to tell you that I made a surprise to my friends on my blog and I think you will like it. If you have the time, please, come to see.
27 September 2008 at 23:00
Kris McCracken said…
USelaine, when reading Ulysses, I figured that Joyce hadn’t slept for weeks! That said, Portrait of the Artist... worked wonders in putting me to sleep.

There was no paternity leave (paid or unpaid) at my workplace, so I used up all of my annual leave, some sick leave and TOIL to ‘buy’ two weeks off, then work at two days a week for five weeks. Finances dictate F/T work, unfortunately. With Henry, Jen had some paid maternity leave and then was made redundant (classy), and the payoff was generous (guilt), so I was very lucky to essentially work one day a week out of home for the first eight months. This has been a big difference.

Sue and Mary Jo, there are indeed traffic lights!

Sonia, I shall have a look-see...
29 September 2008 at 10:57
USelaine said…
Sorry for my presumptions, spoken in ignorance. I guess there's nothing else to do but send Henry to work in the salt mines...
29 September 2008 at 12:58
Kris McCracken said…
Uselaine, no offence taken at all. We don't do work and family balance very well in this country. The ideal for us would have been to both be working part time and caring part time (neither of us are comfortable with paid childcare with little kiddies), but unless you're already in a position to arrange that sort of contract, you've little hope. Throw in a mortgage, and existing part time arrangements are not very attractive.

Also, Henry happened far quicker than we had anticipated! Let's just say that if we had thought more about it, the plan may have been better!
29 September 2008 at 14:33
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