J is for Jump. “Veering between biopic and dystopian-spoof, this latest addition to the Trump Loyal craze (‘The Lady Is A Trump’, ‘Donald! Duck!’) disgraces itself gracefully, in keeping with the jeu d’esprit of the genre. Fake news of a nuclear scare on 5th Avenue is juxtaposed with halcyon days of February Seventeen, when Bannon (Sean Penn) was still 45’s BF. K is for Kafkaesque, as in alternating sequences we travel down 45(Gene Wilder brought back from the dead)’s cerebral cortex towards an ‘overwhelming question’ (Eliot): who are all these Unlikes on my Timeline? Get them out of my Face!”
Friday, 17 February 2017
T is for Thursday, upright on calendar, certain as February. Events aren’t so organised, conversations chain react. A difficulty and their words take up expanding analysis, sting later with why and what to do. A president finds the world’s a mess, so what’s with him? A virus has struck home, no name for said virus, call it Seven Days. Nor can things decide to be hot or cold. U is for Unsleeping, where the spiritual exercise of abstinence, beatitude, calm, discernment, empathy has gone round past zeal a few times, then sleep so deep even dreams don’t intervene with pseudo-Thursday.
Thursday, 16 February 2017
H is for Hot, the tap in the morning after an extra-blanket night. Hot shower keeps the extra-clean Australian appearance, smooth skin health. Then H is the High over the Centre, bendy circles where water vanishes and fire starts. Mercury climbs, if that’s possible. Ground handles hotter than this, while isometric us want to turn off the Hot. I is for Invisible, the heat lines going through me, immovable me that has to move, isometric mind, the extra-need for shade and cold tap, forty and steady like any February. I line up where fire isn’t, grateful I am 60% water.