my paranoia
and my writing — both come from
a desire to play
the hero — look! pen in hand
posing for posterity

Actually the extremes of paranoia — for example, in the early nineties, where I imagined the whole of society to be engaged in civil war based on defending or attacking my ideas — is a pretty good cure for heroism. But rationally it’s possible to see that the imagination must be motivated by a desire for it all the same. In my dreams last night I was furiously engaged in constructing some kind of literary or academic masterpiece. At the same time, I knew I had to be in a classroom at a given time, for an ‘A’ level English Literature class. I kept going in the wrong direction and getting lost in a maze of school corridors and school grounds. When I tried to ask for help, I began to suspect I was being followed by secret services. I like the poem for the distance it has travelled by the time of the last line, from the original dream. Oddly enough it feels authentic even though it is all about posing.


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