Saturday, 2 August 2014

Doppler Defect

It is a moving babel or snippets of phatic detail here and
there and gone, all announced as loud and quick as they
disappear. Mainly at weekends – in the quiet of what we
imagine these to be – the cyclists come and go with their
shared conversations like TV announcers on our auto-
alfresco screens. We have not turned them on but they
come and go in this Doppler reception as emphatic as the
overhead planes, and the narrative excludes as much as it
intrudes because like those flights, the journey begun must
continue and we are occasional passengers. For that moment.
Once more alone we do not care about what’s said could mean.
Talkers are far up the road with earnest continuing and new
if forced eavesdroppers picking up more deception - stories
quickly faded at their moving away to allow our full neglect.


  1. Love this! I often noticed the effect and liken it to channel hopping with an autonomously faulty remote control.
    Talking of poetry - Donald Harington? "Lightning Bug"? Just beautiful, Ozark setting, you can smell the hamlet of Stay More he creates. Never that famous so I'm glad to have stumbled across a more "underground" writer, but it's the descriptive poetic power than lights you up like the fireflies he so beautifully describes.

    1. Always good of you to stop by, and I appreciate the comment. Don't know the Harington, but will have to search out. Thanks again.

  2. Such an original articulation of something we may often encounter yet rarely give any thought to. More poetry please. Some Awe...

  3. Just remembered this anec........went for a mountain-bike ride for some peace and quiet. Sat and read for an hour on an isolated gentle slope near Grimspound. Heard a conversation ABOVE me. No-one else around. Wondered if it was a flashback. Solution? Paragliders! Nearly dropped my Kindle!