Mondays I put money in the kitty
Tuesday is the meeting at the apiary
Wednesdays the dustbins are put out
Thursday nothing much
Fridays we clean house and recycle glass and cardboard
Saturday draw my pension and do shopping
I cannot call my time uneventful.
Imagine someone carefully parking a car-bomb alongside the target.
They climb out and lock the car door. They walk two hundred metres and stop, turn and press the remote. Imagine the car burst open and the low level roar and the flames and the pieces of steel and plastic and glass flying down the street. Imagine one tiny splinter of that glass as a planet in one galaxy hurtling out from a cosmic Big Bang. Imagine we are on that glass planet that set out four and a half billion years ago. Imagine.
The neighbour’s grand-daughter must be five already
She’s wearing school uniform today.
I need to clean the car
And pay the milkman.
I once came face to face with a leopard in Brazil. He was up on a bank ten yards away. We were not threating each other, just wary. He was almost invisible in the shade. His eyes were as wide and as patient as oceans. Before he receded I lived an alternate life.
The sound of a contented hive makes me forgetful of myself.
The Vedas say that time is like a horse with seven reins,
Unageing, thousand hoofed, ejaculating seeds
Huge and shiny like a black lake in the moonlight.
Our job is to mount him
Jump him through the cardboard wall of death.
I cannot call my time eventful either.
- Rashid Maxwell