Verity Spott. Poet. 'He'd make a big show of sticking the two torn halves in his wallet. When we buried him, Frank and I tossed the last two halves he gave us into his grave. Here ' 'Between the two torn halves of my soul are cities and climates' 'Place those two torn halves of the map together again and you are re-enacting the history of the Silurian to Devonian periods' 'The two torn halves promise but never deliver full restitution'
Click Away Close Door Say - http://www.contrabandbooks.co.uk/verity-spott/
I am standing by the desk in a room downstairs and on the desk there are 9 electric pads with short wave radios perched on top of them, and each one is switched on and tuned in to channel nine. Their red lights blink in a strange phasing tandem, and I stare at them, at once very tired and a little "emotional"; actually close to tears, and also very close to outbursts of irreverent laughter. You stare at the desk and the radios. All at once they rasp out a second long white noise and fall dead. The noise is extremely loud and creates an immediate feedback loop that takes place in the second half of the second in which they all receive the signal. I.E. The radios receive a single signal, and because of their power and proximity (because they are charged and at full volume) the signal overloads. They send the signal to one another, each hearing the next and the next - each receiving from whatever outside force sent the first signal and immediately upon reception emitting a new signal. Each new signal comes from eight other radios, and from the receiving and emitting radio itself, each going to eight others, continuing the feedback loop. So why did they stop? That's the spooky part. The spooky part is that the signal somehow failed to go on and on forever. The failure is based on a finger. In order for the signal to continue a finger - nine fingers - must press a button. There must be nine fingers on nine buttons for optimum signal assault. But there were no fingers there except for mine which were still. I was alone in the office without any fingers, except for my fingers which were useless. You might say to yourself that the lack of fingers was reassuring. But it was spooky. Extremely spooky. Because for their lack, the moment of sound became more spooky. There was no finger in sight; there must have been someone or some finger with some radio within range. I looked down into the reflective screen of one of the radios which I now held in my hand and I saw my own face looming and in the face I saw the bone structure and in the structure the skin was gone and I saw a real skeleton and it opened its mouth - it opened my mouth - and said 'I am inside you'. That was 3 spooky 5 me.