the question will always be how to repeat differently

from the room's music
                spilled séances

what to salvage from / for
a snapped record's black sun
rising / setting through half-silence

                  resuscitation of dream threads
travelled / travelling to as the curtains lip-synch
rain while morning spirals

                                                                   how to admit
this isn't quite      lies sleeping      while letting it tell
versions of whatever passes for the other
                                                        twitching at random

you are waking      mutated refuge
returning to dials and gears ready for work
in a world of stealing from ruins
                                                               switching gears

            if there's another way to fold the landscape
making it pretty for today let's have it

natural mortgage / vapours reflecting

cells swarm still moving find pasted the inside of your eyes glass slippers s/he is wearing out looking for spaces lost between raindrops rehearse territory never occupied we can't explain buy what you need love pine needles caught elastic memory for absence grows ants that wriggle their hearts subtracted the sun part paid under written cloudless sky turns dark halls empty the old context bought into boundaries border plants stretching leaves rooted to return in spring charged flower resistant terminology aches with acceptance

whatever calls itself a break

uneven in the treadline
visibility out
                             from which to move
the gutter's clear space                 living
a museum of the avant
periodising what was lost
                                                         further horizons
emptying      the graveyard       
like moments in question            new      unmoored
liberally outpacing tears
                                                        these remnants of when time
lay direct      ripples in the blindspot

integrated windscale

somewhere between      not properly buried
rumours burn down
                                                the hotel
slumbering through observed autopsies
rose tinted      a haze of chemical flowers

            'so many journeys on so many roads'

                                                                                     in the dim-lit bar
diffuse information      forgetting to believe s/he is
guilty      images flow and merge
reflections on water      dictations to start out new from

distances between the sounds of owls
for Peter Hughes

getting back to the story
too much is broken
outside the stethoscopes hearts are building

but here forgets      bleeding through windows
as epidemics carrying tradition
                                                         the dreams we had
engaging nothing
                                  which is      'a serious place'
                                                       (sung in camera

it's getting more difficult
                     those continual songs
that remember what's not
to be said      without
CCTV in operation

      Nathan Thompson 2013