5.

The dog in question belongs to a young single mum, pregnant again, without time or inclination to fix the hole in her fence. She has time to come though. The dog is half husky and so one quarter wolf. The chicken dies of it,s own simplicity and shock. I was responsible. Suddenly, nailing some wire in place, I realise I will have less time to make reparations than to create more problems. I am responsible for the death of a chicken. That was the moment I was judged.

4

... and I'll tell you about the chicken.

3

When I say 'crossing over', it sounds a bit odd. Its not a phrase i ever used in life. But it's the right one. It's right because dying is a process. it doesn't just happen. Even to the so called sudden death trajedy ones. They know they knew now. There aren't any accidents. The only big change is places and moments. You dont - live - in places and moments anymore. Instead, you become witness to the effects of everything you did. The change in Heaven and Hell is just as speedy as change on Earth right now. the bosses can't keep up. No--one seems to fussed which one they inhabit. No one arrives in trepidation - well, rarely. There's even talk of day passes so we can move freely between. It's not such a far cry from the European Union. I'll give you some idea of how it works - the mystery wont be lost entirely. Imagine yourself disembodied but present. imagine that you can either bear witness to the happiness you caused or the pain. You might suspect that your life has been the cause of both and maybe in similar measure but the important thing is to imagine only being able to see - to study - one or the other. That's Heaven and Hell. And the beauty of it is, it's never decided until you begin crossing over. For those few see-ers who know when their time is 'up', they can begin to guess. But mostly, you just start again. And it's not as stark as it sounds. It's how we keep a balance. Remember, even though you might only ever witness the damage you caused, you can still rest assured that you might have caused an equal amount of joy. You just don't get to see it - in Hell. I'm not sure this will translate so well. But look at the footage, start to imagine yourself in these places and moments. think what you could do. Imagine.

Introduction (CNOTNAGOP)

My suspicion is that I knew (after you're dead, you realise when you knew things in life even though, in life, you didn't realise and so, technically, didn't know them) I was crossing over on the day the chicken died. Life is all about losses and gains and sacrifice. God, it turned out, was indeed a mathematician and the trick was to figure out when patterns changed. Taking on mortgages, investments, new businesses, and other financial or political commitments (all those years spent in the 'Friends of St George's Park' and the kids school governors meetings...) are nothing when compared to keeping chickens, kittens, dogs and so on. Taking on responsibility for lives directly nudges you into the harsh light of divine judgement. it puts you in division one when it comes to final reckoning statistics. Same thing goes for wives and girlfriends. God help Mick Jagger and Rod Stewart.

continuing notes on the nature and geography of Purgatory (CNOTNAGOP)

Once you get there, being dead is no more special than being alive and the one lesson life should have taught you is that any future state dreamed of is neither as fearful or desirable as it first appeared. I couldnt have conceived of this in life and neither will you on hearing this - but - i was asked to do it and here it is. I wrote the whole thing down and kept reading it back until i thought it sounded right. In 1998, the difference between Heaven and Hell had already narrowed to nearly nothing. maybe it just came down to one or two seemingly minor choices made at seemingly insignificant moments. Of course, you might never get to understand which ones they were, let alone have an opportunity to re-do them if that's what you'd want to do, but it was nice to be asked. So, here goes.....

late night shopping

Alexandra Burke and Lady ga ga,

Stray Husky Eats Chicken

The girls are late home on the bus and

inch by inch despite hope or intention

they get what they need

maybe God's intervention

was just to home-bake a Pizza

and pay a small compliment

That might've been all

that was needed.

I find myself digging holes

for fenceposts again.....

knee deep in chicken shit

and mudlove; last of all

we made a soup to turn

Teachers into Half-Frogs.

on how ridiculous the news is

a murder

random

yaw divn want to understand em

glad for the allotment

the clubcard

the evening standard

your car,

your wifey

the way yr branded

good to drift

split shift copper

proper bar the tick

of your memory stick

be there at the start?

impossible.

walks on beach

if youre only as good as your last

what?

then what are you doing and how?

who are you for and why?

and what

burt lancaster in a jamaican accent

knock knock...

so maybe your car is faster than mine

what is that sculpture about

and why take it so

for, granted, it might not be a sculpture

it could be a genuine accident,

which would make it remarkable and you

wonder why and where...

but its shite

all i could find was net and signs

stomache is better

not shocked by news

son came home again

mother well dressed

went.

notes on the next one...

someone said again that poetry doesn't make anything happen so what's the point?

it always, all ready, did.

appreciation £

better look out for the snake moon n copperheads

beware faraday, least luminous of lit up temples

beware. Battersby and frankfurt.

leave room for the gypsum on the Rathmines road

be known for pretending. you are taller

than you think you are

whatever the reflection in the late night Tesco window

tells you. you are bigger than that

so be hopeful

and trust that anger is not home grown derision

who would have thought of 'supermarkets'

let alone cheap lenses?

maybe you or some similar kind so think now:

is this a list? or a liturgy?

how far can you leap?

from peak to peak? missing is just as connected

as a C100. be that a bike, tax return or judicial date

you know well, that you were accepting and always around

not critical

where will be

the incision?

meterjig

now when the fall it came to me i was so happy then to see how all the texts you sent had really made a difference

the birds sang slowly in the breeze

i had no words but these to sing indifrently

about the way you came to me histrionically and how it all was made to be and in the distance...

i could see your mothers three and how could that be with me that all the leaves upon the tree

fell off

?

and so laconic finally i made a big surprise and wrapped up all your well wish three and sent them off....

it's hard not to behave like all your poetry, the grave and sisters three four five and Dave have not fell off

the family clock

with its tick and its tock

fell off and must be subservient unto the cock and some time off

mm two mmm three.. mmmmmmmmmmm

One minute's procrastination....

I have no time for writing this shite

There's real work to be done

Oh no there isn't

the banks have all been nationalised

Can I still put a shed up?

"NO".

not to be confused

recently, i have discovered hob nob creams

they don't, in my opinion extend the brand's reach

but, taken moderately, in conjunction with Ken tynan,

the effect is - reassuringly bland.

ken Campbell, however, is a real catalyst

to the hob nob and it's cream. naturally,

I am reporting this in avoidance of something far more

essential and as yet undone.

nevertheless, it represents a contribution of

which I am hopeful KC would have approved.

Alas, one is dead and gone even before I discovered

the charm and the other - is eaten.

On review, it might be that Ken tynan

has no place here what so ever.

I end speculatively hopeful and mildly

sick. Epithetic al transference done.

The other thing? Some kind of job

one of those invisible and un-measurable ones

that no-one would ever remember you for

except, maybe a nice old and recently

widowed lady who wanted, simply,

to learn how to make stained glass,

whilst I was hoping to extend the practice

of dog poo decoration - a clash of interests

which sends me fitfully, pulse racing

towards the hob nob creams again.....