platform

Cheryl Garner (2013)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So here I am in hope again,

Between the layers of sleep and thought,

The shade and space and hidden lights,

Between the shifting lines of doubt.

 

I sit in carriage four of five,

And drift through waking depths of dreams.

I wait for certainties of time

To close my eyes, or shake me out.

 

He sits on platform three and stares

Into an emptiness of clouds.

The train – not his – has mirrored glass:

He sees himself – he’s looking old.

 

I watch that world disintegrate:

What could have been and what was not.

 

Journal Entry (17/11/1998)

Writing does strange things with duration. Helene Cixous’ wish to write in the time of life is eminently manageable, if the time of life is flexible enough a concept to cope with the different durations.

Time isn’t all glimpses of magpies from speeding trains. For example, the magpie took about a second to pass from my vision, but at least ten seconds to write about. I’m still thinking about it, still revisiting it. Is it still in my mind? It was sat on a fence post, next to an orange traffic cone, next to a disused sports’ ground. Writing primacies the aspect, lends credence, not to a nounal world view, but to a “significant detail” world view. In the passing time of duration x, we are conscious through many durations. Writing is a stillness, not in contradiction with, but in compliment to, the rush of other durations.

 

Image by Cheryl Garner (2013)

Poem by thecheesewolf (2013)

Train Journal entry by Gavin Jones (1998)