Time Lords Remixed is a collection of poems for Whovians or whoever likes their poetry fast-paced and clever (but not smart-arsed). It’s one for disciples of the time lords, but written by a poet who can turn a tercet or two. Reiter wants to know what makes a good man (it comes up more than once): I realise I’m not a good man, or a general, or even President of the Earth, but an idiot – (from Death in Heaven) Why do people talk aloud when they know they’re alone, skipping heartbeats in the dark? – (from Listen) Sometimes you think you’re in a surrealist dream (also in the manner of the Doctor): Reality has a glitch in it as you watch for the trap street There are only two ways to escape a quantum shade: undo your tell-tale tattoo or unplug the raven’s death counter – (from Face the Raven) Time Lords Remixed stitches in references to just about everything (in the manner of the series) from Christie, to Dickens via Valhalla and the rest with a short salute to politics and more deeply to current eternal issues: At what point does migration become invasion? The trick is to go opaque, shapeshift your skin or better yet your small talk. And fine-tune your grammar to the edge of visibility. I consider these portals as I saunter through “Amazing Grace” – (from The Zygon Invasion) which feels very much like the life of a poet (or is that just me?). Inevitably physics comes into it: How can you doubt that poetry and physics are the same? They almost rhyme except when they don’t but even then their tune begs to be discovered. Most people frown when they don’t understand, – (from The Pilot) There were many things I didn’t understand because I’m not a Whovian, but there was much I did and all of it was interesting. And there are references which can be followed (I did sometimes). You could spend days inside this world if you wanted to. Whatever a day might mean in this world. Time Lords Remixed is confident. It moves with assurance and intelligence and has something to say, then enacts it: Trust nothing. Interrogate everything. There are some things we should never proxy to our dreams. – (from Last Christmas) – Chris Mansell, author, and publisher of PressPress Loading...
