crescendo.

#robinsoncrusoe.

those books, that music.

rises. zadok was a priest.



#legend.

here  again we have

absolom.         aided.



#hebron



your brother killed him.



#crescendo.



some of us know why.



sbm.

enjoyed waiting with you, leaning on the fence. quietly remember you who made this place.   special.

you talked about the meaning of things. i did not understand.



when we returned to the house, the phone was ringing.       we

regrouped.



sat with you.

until  you

left.



my  phone was ringing;

more news of family.       new people.



i sat with you.



when i got back home

the phone was ringing.



sbm.

seemed  a long break,

plans and intrusions,



with rain.



they cut the trees, let

the light in.



i watched,

took photographs.



made a path where they

dragged the wood.



got bitten.



it is raining now.

heavily.



she sings while she lays the table.



sbm.

we wish      it would turn

about, with music playing.



a melamine plate

candy striped.



gas lighting, lanterns,

disinterested parties.



silent silver, from the

bric a brac stall.



look at them closely,

what a wonder!



sbm.

educate, repair by       demand

a change of thinking. one way

leads to another they say.    so



who are they,

how come

they say



so much.



there was no radio    this morning.



i wondered if we were at war again.



there is one particular word. the other

is different.



maybe we need to define the path?



wear stronger boots?


sbm.

i like the idea of finding family.



spit can create connections.



meanwhile down the road, the

memory differs.



spit.



sbm.

threads stretch out the shape,

pinned           like skin drying.



pinched.



wound.         it is a soothing

thing.



as spinning. heads eleven.



depends on the pronunciation,

the spelling is the same. stretched.



tortured.



heads eleven.



it continues.



sbm.

mine was a little dog.

jack russell.

minnie.

gone now a while…..

i miss her

eyes

the sound of her sleeping.

paws on slate floors.



sbm.

critical.  some things are not for sale.



you see.

it is

not about money

nor gain.



critical. heard things

you disliked.     they

saved your life

didn’t                they?



critical and        difficult

on all sides.       it is not

a competition, we shall

not paint it white.   the



upper rooms.



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.



sbm.

blessings on your   house,

those who **** your sisters.



result.                cathedral.

broken.



repaired.



it is not as you would think, sir. it is

factual.



blessings on your house, those that

reside there.



ignore reality.



ignore the fact.

#shelteredlives



sbm.

liking cheeses          he served them to his guest.



six types,    some from caves and ewes. tasted.



words came ****.



tongue

stilled.



no need for pickles. their marmalade

was good,            with spiced oranges.



their guest said little,     ate the peel.



found that bitter.



fromage.



sbm.

bless thee and paste the words.

literally.

oxblood does not offend me,                   unlike

your rantings, protestations.;  words continue.



sweat

beads.



bless thee, pray your maggots

leave.



while we pick out the remains.



days continue with                       blessings

while the thoughts that this is not personal

are failing.



so i will continue to raise tickets on your befalf



&



bless thee.



sbm.

My thanks to James Stephen for his input on this work.


on the other side
of the path
one yellow flower



early, the crowd came to see the famous arch . laburnum. i came to see the kitchen garden, seeds growing



old words
for things once common
when the things disappeared
the words went with them



some words remain remembered;
scullery, coal scuttle, hod,
broom.

that is yellow.



have a vacuum for
most things
broom is for incidentals,
crevices, or when I'm lazy
'bout getting vacuum out

broom is red
with matching dustpan



i have a vacuum
there is nothing there.

the broom is for

the garden
mainly

or elsewhere for smelling like coconut



sweep your garden ?



slate bits

came from gloddfa ganol....quarry in blaenau.

front yard. leaves fall.





leaves here falling too
a tree here a tree there
so far
soon it will be
all of them together

a collective shed

next 6 months
nothing but bare branches

**

these are the falling days.

did you say whose?



we had hoped to live there, osea.



mud ooz at low tide, fall flat &

wallow.



**** out slowly.

they sold the place to those who sold the place to those.



then those sold it too, to them, who passed it on to those.



we could not live there then.

we live here.



osea. where.

we reared the fire, wild ones flying, walked the shallows, marked

tides.



yet



live here now

instead,

sbm.

it is a habit, looking at old buildings.



carefully.



note the name.



nunnery. yet none.



inhabit here.     or

ever did.



they say it is related to the priory. a resting house

for those who travel.                                    we have



travelled far.



dunster.



sbm.

while all around is flying.



dark words, red bitter tongue

scrying.



do not dignify the challenges. tread sweetly,

move on.



it is simply.

not worth fretting.



i have bought a bucket.



sbm.

a little place. face the wall.

dream forward.



sbm.

it is that.



i drive the route i took.



last time i saw you. we

are older now.



how appropriate that

it is a garret, they say

needs attention.

high roadside banks turn purple, those mountains mourn, rain howls bitter. taste  biting memory. hear the wind.

even. when there is no wind.

a place to work.



hen blas.



sbm.

you have an egg. he asked a question.



answered it himself. talked of differing

lines, marks and silences.



we usually have what we need, may be

a case of looking.



you have an egg.



along the wind comes a feeling

of change.



there is an egg.



sbm.

come sharper now,

with age & ingenuity.



letters lost, the brain

remains.



sbm.

wet here. gave up gardening at four. slates slippy.
looking forward. slightly anxious about the bus change as ever.
food. will eat most. small portions. do not drink alcohol  nor drinking chocolate  ever.
forget what else you asked.
shall like to walk about your area and go to a market. being with you both will be a treat.
bus times are the same. will text if we are delayed at all.
thank you.
sbm.

they talked about churches, that they were miserable places.



some of them. no heating.



planning champing ideals.

your turn to research….



sipped my coffee.



of the diocese, googled how to spell it. listened on the open

book, while here it is bound.



closed.

hidden in boxes.



i was sent to a psychiatrist, eleven years old.

what do you expect?



was told i was fine, given a bible.



what did i expect?



maybe something better.



this book is tied.



I gathered the bread and left.



sbm.

lemon.



bag.



some things

are small.



sbm.

stack the logs, think the pallette   wood be good

back ground.



unstack those logs tomorrow.



today we spread and join society



a while.



new plan.       it is

a secret.



sbm.



{*notes. it is a pretty photo

in no way representative

of the  refered  wood stack .}

I feel care and gentleness. Some people do not ask us of our early years in my experience, and though in the past, never so far away.
I wish I can tell it in a more orderly manner, each episode boxed in date order…..ha.
It is just facts yet I worry over false memories. Seems this week the past is become a theme. So we move forward sometimes looking back.
The tree man is here, and I have also started cutting back
in reality and metaphor.
sbm.

i use you.

blind you, hash tag

nagasaki.



you had a clean shirt

ready for after the bomb fell.







was pushed.



sbm.

what

do you expect. making rules.

there never were any.  look

about.



he

was 17.

he was 22.

he was

ad infinitum.

he was

never

born. i am

still here.



not a hero. i cannot die

young now.



i have sent for the records.



no hesitation.

no martyr.



gender referral

rɪˈfəːr(ə)l/



sbm.

given.



received.



loved.



broken.



mended,



loved.

do you have a partner? a  special other?



maybe you have spaces.                   I do.

now.

i have made it all myself, little garden.



there is some help once a month with

an hourly rate.



then there is the robin.



sbm.

located in files, documents, shredded in envelopes.

notes, from a dark symphony. another world away.

sbm.

i slept a darker paint,

a place of nowhere,

no marks, no texture,

clarity.



waking, touch the surface.



sbm.

we walked round blaenau yesterday, keeping

close to the wall. he ate bazooka bubble gum

&

yes

he swallows it.



at the market hall, i looked for the bible quote,

the drawing of a ****.



it has been painted over .



black.



sbm.

imagine  at night. bold silences.



held  thread, gathered thoughts.



gently fray the wrong side,

allow the cotton the carry

sadness out.



knot.



sbm.

is an issue,  his head done in, he

don’t do surreal. he does money,

profit, &  a perfectly good hug,

every visit.



then there is the gardener, been

there eighteen years.



very tidy.

no pests.



just me visiting.



sbm.



archaic
bubonic plague.
noun: the pest

i am short without magnification. with electrical

notes & other  insignificant items .  did i tell

the story of my life;  i asked before.



i cannot say. there is no principle character

no more.



not since yesterday.

read the script, i am not mentioned.



at all.



sbm.

that was satisfying.

did i sit quietly thinking,

then place a few

things together. yes.

that was exhausting.

the star.



sbm.

dive below,       breathe beneath the surface.

rise &              wonder who defines standard.



present tense.

often reduced.



we have water here & float yet not as pretty

as you.



do.



many poets died this day.



some prefer substandard.



sbm.

is red, slightly rough like the seats on buses

then.



imagined.



with a fringe each end.



i can go anywhere & i do. my boundaries are small.



i like it round here.



i like small places, ordinary, few shops for necessities.



niceties.



good solid folk, gritty conversation.

honesty.



i travel three hours or a little more with public

transport.



enough for me.



clean that magic carpet ready for the hallway

floor.



oh aladdin is a fairy tale.



sbm.

hot weather.



bad smell.



is it the drains?



no. the tory government.

sbm.

she said they were soul mates, with a yorkshire accent.

both much the same. it lasted a while with ups & downs.

the usual.



then it ended.



this is the shorter version.



sbm.

it seems that in moving the body we can free the mind, from one place to another. slightly out of focus.



time is moving forward.

that is the theory……



sbm.

ah did you say tapir?  the word  reminds me of the capybara at the water

park.



not sure why. if you said taper, i will think of the coloured spills by the fire

in the brass holder.



he cleaned the copper pipes for me, as it was raining. he is the gardener.

then he moved on to the coal scuttle and talked about his mum, as did i.

they both placed items on newspaper, while they rolled into tapers after.



to light the fire.



i really like the capybara. i think someone wrote about trousers today.



sbm.

it had changed. thinner.

less volume.

we thought.



no, she said it had been cut out. you see,

if you multiply this and that you will find.

the mass.



it stands steady, decommisioned, favourably

viewed by some.



not by others.



it can be a reflection, it is situated

by the lake.



the texture changed with age, as did the colour.



sbm.

is enough.



this is not politics. some of us have changed our thinking

to suit our life.

end games.



sbm.

fine lines.

solo option. wandering fog.

. read.



find the cost of clothes.

enough to keep

us for months.



help those who

need it.



some wear corduroy. make jam.



ride a bicycle.



sbm.

tempo tempo,                 on & on,

repeating. like

jesu’s blood never failed me yet

or nyman, backwards.



tempo tempo all the time deleting

any form of rhyme, loose phrasing.



tempo, tempo, as if none of it matters,

which it doesn’t.



temp tempo, danzon no 2 arturo marquez.



gustav dudamel.




drive the car forward, move the mind inward.



hope it will not stop.



it will.



shoulders drop.



sbm.



#foundverse



danzón no. 2

so now, here is the thing.



as a kid i was not allowed

crisps.



gran disapproved

& mum had little money,

on her own with four

of us kids to feed.



it is just potato.



i had game chips when

i went to the marsham



court hotel to dance

the new year in. i wore a kilt.

my mother did not come.then

my nice brother went to work

on the railway. one day in secret

he bought me a packet of my own.



early employment as a cook

entailed cooking crisps, oh joy,

& paid for it.



these days i eat them as & when i like.



#salty



sbm.

order.



    crosses came, so we made



2. order in the writing, then

3. the folding, tying carefully.



there is an order in putting

things down, without a

plan.



she criticised the dots.



4. there is order in sending out

into the world

without an

explaination.



sbm.