it don’t work if not connected, if not tuned in, you would think

the experts would know that.



we need to signal to another.



days indoors sewing joins     one thread to        another

bring quiet contentment, though some       may wonder.



we are all making crosses, with patience one or      two



become kisses.  did you know?



they came to see and made the connection.



sbm.

they talked of god while i was focussed on the layout,                 the format of the thing.



i told them i had tidied the box, they wanted to see and gasped        when all was opened.



look at the words they cried, another language, so old and dusty.           do you know there

are things not written anywhere?  the page lay open the word in bold, the edges crumbled.



excitement  tasted in air,              another visit is promised with no word of god.         ahem.



the other book left tied.

paradise lost.



sbm.

skid the surface,  another beetle, lives in water,         floats the tides.

dimple miniscus and glide.        she leans the bridge, watches    you.

shine under sun,         play your tune.

he told me there are more beetles in the world than                anything.

how nice if this were true.

sbm.

it could have been simple, days of sewing crosses.  red.   eight thirty  till five.



it could have been easy, yet there were issues of the electronic kind   meaning

wasting time with wires and connections. some leads led to                 nothing.



some things are not as planned, so rather than be defeated, deal with gusto and

enthusiasm. clean the dust of ages.



then sew on regardless of what is to come. stitch into overtime.         complete



the task.





sbm.

a meditation on thread,

mediation of red, i dream

of you.



clearly your clothes remain

the same, worn, washed,

pressed.



your ideas come different, you

talk of immersion,

and security, nothing was

further from my mind.





the moon came early

a different window.



this does not mean i

have time,

i will be sewing.



i have made notes and numbers,

pinned it to the wall.



sbm.

is crosses. we used to think xisses.

stab the needle .                  threaded.



stitch the cross, tie at the back three

times.                                                 cut.



start again.                 cover the surface.



it takes time and patience to be  brave;

to face the consequences, to be         so

bold.



the calculations are seven.   full days of

stitching.



xisses.                                                 crosses.



sbm.

cold weather, a hot night you

haunted me, collapsed     one

hour after midnight.        sick.

tired i woke          remembered

you had gone a long          time

now.

later i sit and sew,         think of

all those things.
verb
past tense: achieved; past participle: achieved
sbm.