DISABLED DIMENSION

DISABLED DIMENSION

Butterfly flutter by 
nature opens up
the door and drifts 
like time itself.

Writ these words twenty 

years ago but I didn't dream

this butterfly it was real space/time.

All my poems spill out of a disabled dimension.

I don't know if this is morphogenetic, sham-

manic muscle memory. I cant dream and

 visualise, no mind's eye my mind so you 

and I will have to take my word.

I find so hard to these moments, its a lot like

 writing and as you know I'm not good at that.

The first 72 hours after the was like a dream-

scape, the mind had my spirit of life. Inside

my body I had no strength, the stoke sucked

 the life out of me . Never in my life was I so

powerless like an infant man shell. This is so

difficult without memory. The mind a spirtus

mundi a power of evolution that took my breath

away I was at four hospitals stroke wards

 Seems they didn't know what to do with me.

people were dying all around me and I thought

I was next. There was nothing in my space

 time and nothing in my mind, a space cadet.

Hurtling through a blackhole event horizon.

Three things happened and put life into my body. I woke in a medical ward

The nurses put me out of the dayroom for Laughing to much

If you didn't laugh you would cry so tragic on the stroke ward.

A room full of broken human beings I didn't know at the time 

my laughter was my of dealing with the trauma my un-

 emotional engineering was inside out, back to front,

I laughed when I should have cried my mind was broken.

The nurses and doctors were there to help you to but 

I thought that they thought I would choke as my vocal cords 

were broke.I find it so hard to write  about those

laughed at war killing even sentimental 

slush my mind was broken so I laughed 

at myself. some days it was like being 

an extra in one flew over the cuckoo's

nest. 

I knew the nurses wanted to laugh to 

one day a guy great artist thought he 

was the president one day mickey-

mouse the next, I miss that broken

craic, 

iI would compare to that Japanese 

term: Wabi sabi broke beauty. I didn't 

mind being put out I always hated day-

time tv I watched nature in all four sea-

sons I thought I would never write again.

there was a tremor in my hands,para-

lyzed without memory. one day by open

window a butterfly fluttered wrote this

Since that day I have been compelled.

that was twenty years ago, and as my 

mind I am still compelled to write this

like it was yesterday

an infant’s, a clean slate but every 

day on tthe stroke ward when all 

the other head injury patients went 

to the day-room to watch TV. 

I went to the end of the corridor 

and watched nature in all seasons. 

My mind was like porridge gruel. 

It felt like I was doing time; then 

I woke up one morning like a blues 

song with a poem in my head, 

and I wrote it down in a school 

kid’s scrawl.