He’s alive!
April 12, 2020
Coming back to normal civil society after the virus has made us all keep our distance will be a mini-resurrection, I think. Personally, I intend to frequent a great many establishments that serve whisky, and go to the gym. Because nothing says normality like dead-lifting with a hangover…
Bonus Tuesday poem on a Friday
September 9, 2016
God I love this singer and this song:
I trust he’ll be singing in heaven (or, to put it in a slightly different way, to hear this is to be in heaven). In the mean time, here’s a wee poem I wrote about seeing Johnny Cash live, which was first published on Project 365 + 1.
Glastonbury, 1994
When they invent time travel,
whether DeLorean or phone box
I won’t go forward, but back.
There’ll probably be strict laws
about interference
and the paradox
as explored in science fiction
forever, and yet, a visit
to Glastonbury in ’94
surely wouldn’t be a threat,
or trigger Bradbury’s
butterfly effect?
(Unless someone already did,
and that explains the Trump.)
I’d blend into the heaving crowd,
a very happy, sunburnt piggy.
I want to see Johnny Cash live.
I want to watch the Man in Black
and hear him walk the line.
’69 at San Quentin
is out of the question,
but ’94 will do fine.
A simple time machine and off she went,
pausing momentarily to buy a tent.
P.S. Cottier
Notes: The ‘butterfly effect’ mentioned here refers to the short story ‘A Sound of Thunder’ by Ray Bradbury, in which the accidental killing of a butterfly in the distant past results in a very different future world, not least in political terms.
Apparently it was hot at Glastonbury in 1994, which I find hard to believe.
(King James Version, by the way.)
PS Cottier 