The Continental and a trail of enigmatic inconsequence in the company of William Blake

January blue sky at The Continental, Preston,

cold breezes fluttering its celebratory flags,

sun-shot tables, teazels leaning – spiked orbits flashing the solar flares

blessing an obscure rural science-fiction[i]

lurking at the back of the mind . . .

the way a red-ochre crescent of brick, a week later,

under a shabby bungalow’s listing bay window,

haunted to the distance each half-hearted thank-you of suburbia,

and rotten black and white paint

scorned every atmosphere of Tudor.

Close to the vast girder bridge caging trains across the Ribble

the pittosporum is aflame:

From a duff ticket came forth sweetness[ii],

a visionary half-hour

foretold by class 88 Prometheus

dashing Lancaster’s platforms on an epic freight

nameplate dazzling before the camera could open its eye . . .

Here, now, in the garden below the bridge

with the joy of Blake’s flying essence[iii]

all benches but this, remain free –

no miser’s guinea could ever eclipse the sun[iv].

The stalk of a black cat, superior on a spine of flagstones

disdains the sparrow’s cheep and flitter

bickering through the teazels communal sway.

As a plane drones across the ringing cobalt,

a zone of light turns this glass of beer holy . . .

Indoor laughter sounds from the conservatory.

While one cannot help but wish hard for an alternative future in which

Corbyn[v] and a truer Left had been entrusted to guide our political direction,

so must imagination fulfill that missed opportunity:

To be given a heaven from hell’s despair

my precious half hour becomes a year . . .

Becomes eternity.

When you wander the streets of a city, should it be devastating

to realise how many people you pass, you will never see again?

NOTES

[i] Perhaps the lurking atmosphere comes primarily from Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine? which isn’t science fiction, but that book (and its cover) were the tip of a science fiction iceberg – which includes for example, the weirdly compelling Space 1999 episode, Another Time, Another Place . . .

[ii] A skewed reference to the idea of honey coming from the corpse of a lion [Judges 14:14] – though “from strength came forth sweetness” is probably better known from Golden Syrup tins?

[iii] He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy

[iv] “To the eyes of a miser a guinea is far more beautiful than the Sun” comes from a letter written by William Blake to his friend and patron Dr. John Trusler in 1799

[v] en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeremy_Corbyn

www.economist.com/britain/2017/10/19/preston-jeremy-corbyns-model-town