Storyboards, Illustrations, Music Videos, London, UK
Before commencing drawing,
search out the silvery mines and tunnels of a pencil sharpener.
Snugly lodge the pencil,
rotate it clockwise
against the tiny razored blade.
The shavings will emerge
like a fledgling extending its wings.
They edge gingerly out into the air,
a row of paper-doll cutouts, dancing,
a Japanese fan unfolding,
the sails of ships of the line,
manacles falling from a captive's wrists,
a miniature wooden crown, cogged,
the palisades of a fort,
flower petals, falling,
the flags of all nations unfurling,
a screed of ornate Dutch lace,
the curl of an Elizabethan ruffed collar,
in the museum
the scroll cautiously unrolled,
a bandage unwinding,
the silhouettes of distant hills seen but unreachable,
a forest's edge reincarnating in a graft of wood shavings.
The sharpener cheeps quietly,
a gentle repetitious rasping,
like a small mammal voicing,
until finally the pencil turns against air, lathe-smooth.
A talcum of graphite dusts the blade.
The pencil is now needling sharp, aerial-thin,
ready to arraign or attire
as it hangs like a satellite
over unmarked polar whiteness.