Z (February)

Z is for zip of breast pocket, zizz of beer can opening, zzzzzzz of a sleeping cable. Minor sounds, almost no sound, our breathing when we are thinking of something else. Tap of coathangers in our search for a shirt, tap of trapped leaf on windowpane, tap. Humble aitch sounds, as when a timber house cools after intense February days. The click of nail clippers. A is for away, the sounds ah! we see but do not anyhow hear. Sound of a plane that’s only a glint at 35,000 feet. Friday night restaurant seen from our passing car. Our heartbeat.

K (February)

K is for Kilometre? King? Kevin? Special K? We enjoy the way railway views and warehouse walls turn into kindergartens of big alphabets, cosmopolitan forums of multi-limbed human-high words. Kali? Kryptonite? The night of its writing was February green and their eyes were flames. Come daylight fennel and daisies get in the way. L is for Love? Maybe, though the other letters blaze so wildly Chicago plus badged over frequent, only L is recognisable. Brickwork mortar and train speed don’t help, either. LOL or LHC? Second childhood sprays back fence murals rainbows, then heads for the monkey puzzle tram stop.

V (February)

V is for Very, as at the end of a school essay, “V. Good!” More than good, but yet not quite “Excellent”. Why not excellent? We’re never told. Something we wrote? Something we didn’t write? The term that started in February concluded with “V. Good!” “Needs to concentrate.” “Room for improvement.” “Could do better with more effort.” Definitions proliferate when things aren’t so “V. Good!” W is for What? A couple of loops that is the teacher’s signature. More like an excuse for a signature. Very, very much needs to make themselves clearer! No doubt they are doing their best.  

N (February)

N is for Night, the quiet, later, at nine’s stroke, when the television chatters in another room, mutely. N is for forgotten Names. N is for Novel, leafed pages, later, the cat napping, when our author increases the underlying suspense, silently. N is for ridiculous Numbers. N is for Never, the thought, sometimes, at drowsy shut-eye, that the day today will never repeat, thankfully. N is for sleepy Notes. O is for Orange, the line, early, of first light, when our alphabets yes resume amid habitual chance, familiarly. O is for Order, the amusing rightness of eccentric February, ordinary Sunday.

X (February)

X is for Xylophone. Xylophone is for exactly percussion. Percussion is for exceeding sound explode explain. Sound is for exemplary sensation expanding. Sensation is for expectant awareness inexplicable explicable. Awareness is for experienced meaning, exposed. Meaning is for extra-understanding, experiment. Understanding is for expeditionary identity, expensive. Identity is for extravagant growth. Growth is for extraordinarily living, examined and exorbitant. Living is for extrovert learning extant exotic. Learning is for expression expressed changing. Changing is for extremity wisdom ex nihilo and exodus. Y is for Yes. Yes is for yesterday, an extensive extinct February excellent. Yes exists inside yeast, extemporising expanding…  

E (February)

E is for Empty. House emptiness, the shape of everything and no one home. Garden emptiness, greenery left alone to get on with living. Street emptiness, a two o’clock feeling for no good reason. Screen emptiness, a million particles of unimportant information. Building emptiness, form and function lost to demolition. Carpark emptiness, just acres of white lines for skateboards. Shop emptiness, the whole arcade up for lease. Wallet emptiness, not even a lucky Malaysian ringgit. Seaside emptiness, nothing in February between you and the horizon. Globe emptiness, yet again trying to imagine us turning through space. F is for Full.