let not words defeat me

in the chaos of this place.

I like to speak of abstraction,

tidy places.



I like my washing blowing high,

fresh winds and freedom,

scented with robins eggs

and butter flight.



I lived in a flat once, balconied

and still have bad dreams.

©sbm

arrives unexpected from darkness,       some winters’ mornings,

opening  the door to the sound of    one black bran  bird calling.



track four repeated.                                                                     that



comes on waking finding peace and comfort       bound in  clean

linen.



arises with perfume,            an                            uncertain memory.



it may be chemicals, peptides in the brain as  love,             what

ever the germ or warfare



I find no word to describe, no random feather nor             dust on

my plate.                                                                            pass a finger.



that feeling of trimmed nails upon the keys                       pounding

words and                                                                                    silences.



while music plays.                                                          that feeling. that.



syrup stings my tongue.





sbm.

the light of day and the cooker is gone.

i shall miss it and wonder at your strength.



sbm.

just one day left to write on  purple

for no particular reason except it is

suggested.



one day left to remember the    lilac

he wished was white, and then it was

so.



one day today to change the colour

of blood.



purple is family, the colour of walls ,

time of remembrance.



lavender will not grow here, the soil is

not appropriate.



sbm.

so, sir. i hear that you wear purple under that

sullen coat.                                                   i hear

it is the colour                                            of god.



yet those who do not believe wear it    proudly,

most of the time.                                             sir.



look at him.                                             just a boy.



sbm.

one slip is all, one step too far, the world turns around . no control, no eating,   disorder abounds. watch the ornaments fly…..

i am a fortunate, to live

without fear.

mostly.

with light shining.


sbm.