i do not wish to win the race

nor

even

take part in it

yes

i have it still

perfectly preserved

yes….nearly as tall as me,

never as old as me

yet wiser

dad did not die in the war

he sent primroses to my

mum

from somewhere

in england before i was born



there is a half sister

somewhere



who says he was not up to much



i have his army photo with dried

white tack

it falls off the wall

you see it sometimes in passing

a glimpse of another life

another way of being



trees reflected



think beyond that horizon

to a home that awaits when we relocate



will our work be different?

will the souls arise?



you see it sometimes in passing

light & hope & if the heart is ready

the work comes different



water meadows

dark

crossed

X



tucked in with you

look at the eye squint



it is black

nothing can get at  us  here

in the black



you know it all

i have told you                      over



your eye glints in the dark

you look the same              always



and



you say nothing



people walk by



it is a long time since i drew a bear of wool



((it is about abuse / homelessness/ the need for a place of safety))

it is a new stove. i had it last year.



while away i left the door shut

on my return i lit the sticks and coal



november the fifth



i cleaned it next morning ready

and found the tiny bird by the door



inside



not even burned



yet dead



i have kept it photographed it



it was not a bonfire

it was an accident

oddly rhymes with posterity

austerity

the irony

how can they make such rigid stuff
from soft wools



take the thing then
harden it.

they say it will last a lifetime

hold its own
tradition

in the cold frozen

the code will not work,

nor will the counting with interruptions

austerity rhymes

with irony

not posterity

i went to the new dentist on friday and advised him i am scared of dentists, and he advised me that he was scared of patients.



i like him.

he looks like how
we may imagine
an old pirate looks

yet

i cannot see his leg
nor his parrot

do you like the feeling, walking ahead quickly, moving forward, loosening limbs. pushing

through wind, through water, rain slanting. shouting, counting the rams, shadowing

shepherd. wee mouse on the path, beady eyed. these are the hopeful days, weak sun

aching

3.



down the back lane there are puddles, huge amounts of water fell, flooded the abbey ruins.   branches blown , creaking twigs while rain stays off a while. she is a new walking partner, quite fast, no bother.

lean on the fence to look over a steep drop to the river

tears well as we speak of it openly

4.

to break the cut a pheasant comes comely all collars & spectacles   walks sedately to the edge, leans forward, ambles down.



the walk.

clocks flip early

switch back while i was thinking



another hour falling

i

watched you in the meanwhile and made porridge



syrup  depleted

i watched you back to back



life in the wild

some of the plates   are broken
some of the friends are gone

some words will not line up

some things

just don’t work

no more



there is no punctuation

if they played the same tune
over, will despondancy ensue?

life is full of multiplicities, other
hard spellings, lessons to drench a life.

whilst in the midst, the struggle, we fall
and grow.

these things do happen,
to most people.

except some  seem immune to
harm.

who are the chosen ones?

the radio plays the same tune,
faintly upstairs.

sbm.

can be a difficulty

to say that we do not know



the answer.



that we have to count

check

count again.



that we get distracted

disturbed by other matters

then

come back.                     miscount

again.



it is not some thing we can google

so we have lists lines and rulers.



when all is done we sign and date

admit we do not know the answer



maybe start again.

sbm.

bone of the soul

earthy dark
below ground

no crystals here
no cave
no tight spaces

we have a freedom

i cannot see
it takes another to
show to me

talk of sea spray
early years
and the price of food
these days

tax on bags
and sculleries

language speaks of other days
small boys with
m box five
or something

back to the cathedral
where the book says
it is all for nothing anyway
talk about giving hope away.

a spiritual reduction, a sad deduction
from some who should
know better

1856

I work the deep mine

Small

1858

Eight now nearly nine.

Tall

Break your bread and poetry

Save your breath or whistle?
Save your breath or sing?

1862

Apprenticed

for promotion

Chained

Look

He is forty one

Lungs of stone

Forty five

Done

Slate breath

wanted to show
the photo of the
yellow star pressed
with the steam iron
ready to be pinned
on her dress, labelled

seren

the dress is finished
clean, white, pressed.
the star is finished
pressed, to be pinned

rusty pin.

who is this?

worried over news

trembled
a while gathered back the warp,
the weft

slowly he flew

before us

we watched him prepare

carefully, smiling.

then he rose and flew

before me

this is pretty
if not indeed
a fancy dress.

if one could see it all
with the peripheries,
one will agree
that
one can fancy
to own
such a dress.

( often know as frock)

sbm

5
time is limited these days. those one admired in youth devastate us now



2
they saw clouds imagined it was heaven
i saw it on the stairs



to wander, hoping not for repetition, hoping to find little journeys



rather blustery.   today   storms blow in, leaves crake. …



clouds.   we stood together working pushing rags through to make things neater.

the cloth once white, is black again



beady eyed. these are the hopeful days, weak sun aching …



4
to air and store, to host the mouse that eats the soap. no longer

rhythms of black birds ; black jack ; flap jack stream of consciousness

these recollections ; another time eighteen hundred eighteen hundred …



i wish i wrote like others with words of wonder full syllables, bells ringing, you know.

look at the little people.
arms held high. the medicine
is in the cabinet, they cannot
reach it.

( notes and diagrams)

there are times

when i am rendered

speechless,

and so i was,

again………

on what is or is not,

reflection on life,

and what is not.

reflections,

ourselves back to front.

or not.

the museum man

says it is the medieval place,

that causes the feeling

of calm and acceptance,

and smiled at our excitement

on the glass , the remembrance

and hallmarks.

he works there.

he said he never

noticed the thistles,

just handed me the bag.

( notes on the moving image)

captured a year ago,

is still and minimal,

grey and sad.

move the image again

to prove the alignment?

are you sleeping
cariad bach

while i watch the buryng,
the pain,
the madness,
the snowdrops.

are you sleeping,
while they hold her up.

cariad bach.

. we are friends .

we are friends , we met in the lane.

the words sound like poetry, the quiet
voice sounds shouting in this silence.

it can make windows and opportunities,
space to accompany the music.

travel far and in between, play the right notes,
write notes, and then maybe, all will come

clear. or not.

i need that stop.

that early evening,

slips into dusk.

the last blackbird singing.

that idle if not in

gainful employment.

there are thoughts

that are randomly baleful,

or so mediocre

need reviving.

sbm.

no words to describe the mass, the danger of it all, the hate that rises. the parallel, the home, the black chair. power house. bone house.
5
the power house looms ahead. they pray for peace and family, their lovely homes and salary. pigs. work for the people supposedly.

6
power house

has no hold over me now

clear peripheries, learn to spell curiousity

burnish wax. today a small task

layered in air …

rain falls, black bird calls…

I do not know if it is first edition, is just my book i bought from charity and read it mainly in the back bedroom.
Out of site. The photographs are writers on postcard size prints.
I cannot come on the 27th yet I hope it all goes well.
I think I shall like to be involved with most things as I do not often get to London.

i saw you fallen & photographed you

took you to be stitched yet could not save you nor any of them



it feels natural, without the need to explain. to verbalize the fallen



his small collection comes from concerns with the fallen

. All is the same there.
I left the stone yet the storms may have moved it a little.
I said hello to your hotel.
Yes the Durley Dene is good with a spa and a wonderful cream some tea oh and chandeliers of course. The other Bournemouth hotel whose name I forget was all mirrored furniture and starchy tablecloths.
Saw two films in the little cinema with a fellow traveler while others sheltered from the storm in the hotel lounge with sandwiches and games.
I avoid private views so a day at home after a quick trip into Dolgellau for the post etc. Hope you have a real good time in Dunoon.
Oh there is a good photography exhibition at Burgh Hall and the cafe is open there too. The library is open in the Queens hall and has stunning views.
A friend showed me her photos of whales up the watter. ..teaching their offspring to hunt. The watter turned red. It is said they swam up to Glasgow where they turned and headed back.
The framers up the back road may be open so one can visit his pet lizard. Have fun.

…hear the geese fly over. it is autumn…
they are overhead here, too.
the window is misted, sky pink
an ink wash day….

is best to
be gentle
with those
and all
other things….

sbm.

:: it has left me tired ::

adrift, will the sky at last explode, or will this hate

continue pointlessly, for thousand thousands years.

numbers that cannot describe each particle of pain.

each ****** bomb that kills yet again.

it may have left us tired, we are alive to witness.

yet again.

#poetsforpeace

( notes on darkness) more fairy lights is all that is needed, radio music, and padding about really….

i no longer

help to burn stubble,

watch the creatures scream and fly,

die.

sbm.

i spent a long time looking

in higher boxed for those

who are missing.

have you seen the film?

i have. many times.

sbm.

the sea air is here

miles from the shore

while i wonder what

nostalgia is.

ta. i quite like shopping, i know some people don’t, but i like to look at all the things, and listen to the people. i had best buy lilies..

never had a red dress made of paper cloth, now i have two.

.

let us look at things, differently.

often, we do things, no one ever sees.

that is you and me. two of us
dancing in the dark. it came
and went,

quickly.

will come again
in autumn, then

all can see.

this time,
it was a
private view.

sbm.

hard to keep rules,
where there are no rules.

hard to be a yard stick these days,
when others use meters.

found it exhausting, packing,
making the installations. it

is not hard, yet my mental
got exhausted.

i went to the party.

sbm.

most of all, and not in notes,

i recommend you see,

anselm keifers work,

some where.

Lovely. I nearly rented a run down bungalow at Sandbanks before the boom. It was nice then.

I bet your bus went past St . Anns hospital where Mum was for a long and many times. She had electric shock treatment. It was all nuts

My boyfriend was in there too. He put his head in the oven. He came out as gay later. He was a croupier at the Royal Bath.

Oh my days. You have kicked off memories .

Enjoy the day x

there are no rules, no meaning. we live, we see.

we see the sea

pare thin

stew slow

&

smooth

stir with thickest

cream & sugar

as mum did