JILL JONES
			TV star asana Her face is still beautiful in that English way even through lines of video. In the 60s we sat round the table edged with uneasy posture. My father worked among artifice and advertising. These lunch guests were artist and star. She was less stitched up than us breathing that other life ­ celebrity, creation. They had money and cameras. She made a joke with the word penis. That day I think the curtain was drawn against the western sun and traffic in the street. My mother would have tried. Are you experienced? No answer only our pale green plasterboard walls my adolescent green Japanese radio the frog in the pond at night stars disappearing over the city men leaving trash on the moon. And I, still gazing through green haze never thought about my breath or heartbeat. ‛Fate finds you no matter how far’ even through lines of video starring the windy cliffs of change lost          prana.