54 degrees, 34 minutes north (appleby in westmorland)

in ma 30th year when i had ?drunk ?swallowed all my shame ... villons testament aching like the 14th century blues it is, i head. yu know that movie ov mind driven too many hours hallucinating the road, yu’ve become tarmac, yu are the closing brakelights in front, the concrete-hum ... go on, close yr eyes, relive that burn, that ... so little stillness in the AC ov ma dynamo, narrow road to ma interior. at last pulling off to this riverside, this once a year liberation, freezone-hardblowing, find a lazy loop in the eden, slow red sandstone cliff, whisperings ov grass, ov sun, ov peace, & then              then firestorm gig beyond labelling, evan parkers freejazz improv freeform prodigious circular breathing defies time, screaming physical ov saxsolo, impossible minutes without pause. tho foundry ov north demands our industry, none can deny our breathing. in these snake-circular repetitive bursts, electric ov ... realpunk continued howling, anytime soon, the next x years, i’m blown away. applebys post-industrial take explodes time. freezone reconfigures beat ov our own aching breathsuck, exposing clockguts, an act ov fine jewelling. rage & storm gathering at heart

barry macsweeney

yr soft-hearts a hardboiled riff / & yrs a livid glass / an all-lemon suit walking the monument / & yu somewhere between punk & gent / head-turn all yr life / yr life bared / this great world of air & angels time-pleased via tom wolfe & lou reed / & abbey lincoln blues joins spires ov rabelais in raising honeyed-lipped pints to yr rain ma rain / again & again / yr green cabaret ranting / yr fog-eyed scarlet boulevard wild-swinging / to these much debated lands plastic-poppied / black torch chaos-conducting / from alston to alnwick & back again / carlisle to hexham / nentheads allenheads bentheads romanwall cowslips all / yr cabaret green rant-pearls before the chair / a split thunder yr head ma headache / a rare lapse rare-axed lapseblood / the burr ov whiskeys on tongue / blurred hedgerows / the elder & the alder / the ragged-robin borrowed raintrack / oh all tyne valleys flowing down to the floodstill sea / & yu / yu down the 2am 3am 4am phone lines & down to the wire & singing the air around tom paine / & as we set out to breathe the air around yr hellhound trails / yr early-morning phone-calls i’m alive, i’m still alive til that morning / no ranters call voltaire extraordinaire to the post-apocalypso but / finding yu there / boots on / at the ready / to walk yr north pennine ways