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*Liminal
1
please..
turn off your mobile phone, be in the
zone
where no wi-fi
exists, no maps are known
no headlines trap the day, no scheming
wars
no skirmishes, no raw unsettled scores
no egos blasting vacant noise, no
scorn
no worthless accolades, no truth
unsworn
no inspiration crushed, no raging
crowd
no histories rehashed for futures
proud.
stay in self emptied sound, we're on a
beach
where interchange of sea and sand can
breach
new boundaries, cast fresh lines to
define
this chancy drifting delirious time.
falling between the cracks, watch
structures fade
cold ground but where creative worlds
invade
horizons freed, reveal a world enriched,
witness self consciousness at
fevered pitch.
stripped bare of all that
differentiates
we breathe new patterns, walk through
altered states.
vague passages now run from myth to
fact
sign posts deceive, all likelihoods
intact.
awareness stalks the cafes, streets
and squares
seeking third space, found drifting, trembling there.
the word is out, trust inner certainty
no space defined, here is no gravity.
the jumped up problem of the week
kicks off
so coy it begs for plot clues, argues
stuff,
devoid of meaning in a branded voice
fragmenting through glad colonies of
choice.
the new world embryo avoids decrees
toys with its hopes, plans planetary
sprees.
innocent iridescence at its core,
heartbreaking, funny, it fights to be
born.
now magic realism sweeps through the
day,
London holds tight, shifts thrifty
shades of grey.
the word is out 'don't jump' 'stay
sane' 'go swim'
the third space waits couched for a telling spring.
Liz Callingham