one slip is all.
one step too far, the
world turns around .
no control, no eating,
disorder abounds. watch
the ornaments fly, we feel
like alice. one minute turned
to weeks, and wish we had
our camera to film the scene.
these are indeed the falling days.
i am not broken, maybe cracked.
if you read me, you knew
if the dress is ripped it can be mended,
if it is shredded it can be lined
with net for strength and longevity.
dirty, will wash it, iron and air it,
loosely bind into keeping,
a collection, memory
of those halycon daze.
will buy a suitable hanger.
1. Your nearest Chimera Café is here:
2. Chimera Café was founded by Karl Marx whilst he was under heavy sedation and having his wisdom teeth removed.
3. Patrons of Chimera Café are respectfully asked to leave their heads tethered to a post outside the premises.
4. At Chimera Café the baristas are bastard barristers who barter barbarously for barbed bananas and barking, barmy bartenders. They serve coffee made of crushed cockroaches. Dark Roach Roast is £13.13 for a tall, £6.66 for a grande and a penny for a venti. A single-shot espresso will cost you your soul if you have one or your mother’s if you don’t. You can also buy Kia-Ora orange with the faint tint of urine and bags of crisps three decades past their best-by date. Buy a can of Croak-a-Cola and the bitter flavouring of 1970 rust comes through.
5. Silk, the café chef, is tainted by fish people genes. Every slice of bread he touches tastes obscurely of the sea.
6. The ostensible purpose of Chimera Café is the retail of unpleasant drinks and snacks. Its real purpose is the derangement of the senses.
7. Once you have entered Chimera Café it is impossible to leave; the maze of tasteful sofas, tables and stools (defecated by the great gods of the South Pacific) never ends.
8. Chimera Café exists only in the mind of a dreaming chimpanzee.
This piece originally appeared as a series of tweets by James Knight and another (anonymous) member of Chimera
and cross one side to another,
harbour to the beach.
no city here, this is
pools up by the bridge..
Entire civilisations rise and fall around us in the vastnesses of a second. We walk through cathedrals crumbling too fast for the eye to see.
Sometimes a disturbance registers at the edges of our attention as a new species evolves, dominates its lightning ecosystem, and goes extinct.
Subliminally, we read the sublime literatures of cultures too instantaneous for the dust that was their libraries to reach our lungs.
Our brain will finally process, a second later, that phrase someone said for a billion billion billion billionth of a second – then forget.
Traces of experiences too brief to remember haunt us for periods too short to notice so repeatedly we wonder what this momentary mood is?
In the eons inside the seconds, cultures look on the Sun, the stars and the Moon as absolutely still. Occasionally a heretic denies this.
They have a sense of profound immanence: all around them something is about to happen that must, surely, have a significance for them alone.
is little. painted bad,
so i bought it ,
it has become an installation
with eggs, which was at home,
in the outbuilding, where i
keep the idle atrefacts.
after bottling stuff with blood,
bones, i packed it nicely with
tissue, to send to the academy
i must take better
slight rain, you could say
drizzle, soft. a gentle day.
opening new ground. sand
underfoot reminds of
younger days. toast
also a comfort in
an age of other things.
pattern of tiny souls,
searching just for crumbs,
patterning a place to lodge
slight rain brought out
the coloured coats,
talk of tides and fortitudes.
opening new ground.
the church was closed.