Mostly I write poems that don’t wish to be sung.

And I write music that has no need for speech.

But every now again they meet and an explosion happens.

Something is born screaming and ripping straight out of me.

A waking hallucination.

When I try and write a song I usually get stuck somewhere:

On Randolph road at 5pm on a Tuesday.

The engine repeating its cycle as I crawl.

When a song is born it is sudden and catostrophic.

A Star exploding.

And I never understand this.

I sit back and wonder what just came through me.

And then I go to work.

Feverishly bringing vision 

Fully formed

To what I am able.

Why me?

Why today?

I will never know

(If there even is an answer)

Who knows?