Mulling over a Life decides some things, but declines much
more. I was there when the tiger won his freedom and the
doves of peace were deselected. You know it’s a high-risk
business when the roar gets into your ears and thinking flies
out the window. A for artisans, B for belladonna, C for the
kindest cut of all and so on: everything you can think of has
its story, tells it like ‘I am’ (there are rhymes here, if you look
hard, but a songbird sounds sweeter). I didn’t want to be
superimposed over a picture of anything, because nothing
looks like I am, and these words weren’t much better, see if
they aren’t. Superpowers prowl around, monitoring all I
do. If they’ve a clue what I’m up to, look at the state of us.
Peter Dent