Friday 7th September


In the time before sunrise an old friend rents a quiet rooms to a noisy head.
Last night the crazies gathered in the dark to the sound of sobbing & choirs.
The agony underscored by beautiful singing alway makes me chuckle
as the poetry of pain spills out the angels in the room next door
get on with living in the moment. The air was clean & crisp & tail lights
slipped slow between shuttered houses, everyone asleep as we drove
through town. Listening to David Byrne