Can confirm….

Can confirm that I was the bullet that clipped Trump’s ear.

I was the apple which sat upon the head of Burrough’s wife. 

I was the last birdcall which at least one person ever heard, and potentially more. 

I can confirm, I am every warning just before it is too late. 

I am the hidden text behind each ‘see more…’ ending. 

I am the idea you forgot and never succeeded in remembering.

I am every cat that gets between you and the paper/laptop/etc.

I can confirm, I am the confirmation you are waiting for.

I am the gap between your assumptions and reality.

I am the stretch which opens your heart.

I am each and every pulse which has ever dared to lay out a rhythm. 

I can confirm that I am all those genres and moves which have not yet been seen. 

I am the YET in the immanent silence of possibility, which reminds us of what might be.

I am the IF in the mindmap of sequential actions, which posits the pivotal step. 

I am everything and nothing, and every no-one who has ever realised that their place is simply an invitation to be. 

I can confirm that the bill is in the post, and eventually there is no charge.