Astronautical Musings Before the Next Great Adjustment

Time...is like a river...floating to the sea.... or so I believe the Alan Parson's Project reckoned back in those halcyon days of AOR FM rock, back in those simpler times of floating synthesisers and Roger Dean artwork and the wonders of newly learnt airbrushing techniques...with real paint that is, not the hyper-clean cyber environment of photoshop pixels, not the of faux experience of heartless silicon valley programmed software, oh no, no siree...

But I degress.  Things have been quiet on the PP blog front so far this year but much has been happening behind the scenes and, who knows, we may see an autumn of frantic- perhaps even gently manic- publishing activity.

Soon away from the blocks will be the much anticipated poetry volume by Zip Domingo, called 'How to be a Spaceman.'  It has much to offer...watch this space.  Here's a taster for you lucky earthbound mortals...

Memoirs of a Confused Spaceman #1

One hundred million balls of light

seen in a tube        sitting

my muse is not an angel she is a rifle toting harpy

he said but

who gives a shit in a weightless world

where escaped urine makes the most symmetrically pleasing

and melancholic startlingly perfect globes

that gently pulse

and I can amuse myself for hours watching fragments

of chocolate                      shards

drift in smooth dreamt paths

shards of pleasure

that Aztec cure all the aphrodisiac of

human killers for the Mercy of the Gods

yeah those ones those proto-Mexicans

challenged by a cowering vision-thing

and those Gods now are they just out there?

In that void blurred by voyage

and fevered nightmares that miss the earth

that elevates photosynthesis to the dizzy heights

of a lost friend status not merely  

something to keep in a bottle

and watch grow under synthetic light

but elevated to the level of a God….

                  …out here.