some  have been away



(on holiday)



i have



some think that  this  means

prison



those in america



velcro is easy

more than buttons



some say that pinc is welsh

for pink.



this is repetition



sbm.

long procession.             look.

tamborines.

they wear jewellery. loosely

hanging.



these are the tribes, the leaders.



i see nothing holy.



sbm.

cross too




cold room council house

she lit the fire that day



one gift each plus the stocking

fillers



a compendium of games or jigsaw to share

three brothers



she walked, talked, blinked

oddly

wore the gingham dress and pants



i still have her

draw her scan her

photograph her



show her in exhibition

my profile picture

is on thirteen,  hope the ribbon won’t fray.



if it does we shall buy some other.  it is said

that in my job think lateral, i try,

for art’s sake.



yet there is still that straight line, rules

from years of brain, washing.



perhaps programme two, or one.



boil wash.



sbm.

there is a cleaness to the air, like violins in film, while

animal life kicks in.

the bear looked puzzled, sat back and said,

‘told you, no one will listen if we are quiet,

they have all lost interest’



yes.



‘do they only listen to loud folk , those that  shout

and remonstrate’



seems so.



‘do you mind’ said that bear sympathetically.



no.



sbm.

the bear looked puzzled, sat back and said,

‘told you, no one will listen if we are quiet,

they have all lost interest’



yes.



‘do they only listen to loud folk , those that  shout

and remonstrate’



seems so.



‘do you mind’ said that bear sympathetically.



no.



sbm.

ps

i wonder about the energy when we go
if it does indeed spread back into the source?

and now that so many are angry
how will that work now…….

the day arrives damp in lower case
a few knapweeds have flowers

i walked through them yesterday
to feed the birds. while some may
say overgrown
it felt lovely

i may photograph it later

we went to the gallery
and though i tried hard
my mouth let loose

she noted that i was constructive
and said nothing nasty. it was involuntary

a nice time by bus, my car gears gone
sticky

today i walk the old railway track
down to the pub by the toll bridge
there

which means i will sleep well
after the exercise

i usually sleep well anyhow
leaving the radio on
the window wide

stone walls you mention stone walls
we have them here all over even up
over the mountain

slate ones too utilising slate waste
looking like rows of grey graded teeth

yes the work the labour and who they
used to build

bromnleys boys worked on some here
a pleasure to watch. i add the white crystal stones
in the niches week by week

when i find them

i like moving stones about

i note that i am writing from this perspective
of i/me, what else

the tank man talked to me a while yesterday
about a soiree which should have an accent
over the ‘e’, said i will have liked it

i put him straight on that one
i like to talk to him. it is refreshing

i like the weathered look come unintentional

i looked out for my friends house too described
as the one with all the plants outside on the pavement

there were four like this
no front gardens so they place the pots so pretty

may be a muddle when i visit

news come from the bbc so it is time
to carry on, lets carry on

Sonja 7.00 am
cat yowling
mist down the valley
warm

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.

a.

possibly

or

a

sleepy shrew

a

in boat

b. probably

maybe i prefer it when they all ignore me
than make all those comments that they

feel require an answer
when i often have none

today it rains heavily
i can hear it by the
window

this changes plans

i like things spaced
out, categorised

gives me a feeling of control
when there is none, do you

think that is why the questions
too

once he said to stay safe and i
thought, well hey, no one is safe

yet i said nothing back to him

i never say anything to him no
more, like he is not even there
no more

so i shall stay domestic here today
while rain falls
outside

8.22 am

a scandal
to be so
late

on tuesday they have the poetry club

in the pub, by chance i went



was told they were quiet, rather private

and i understood



they bent low and whispered words

mostly looking down or away



my host laughed

noted it as almost silent

yet what is the harm



on tuesdays i attend our poetry club

in a pub

where we project and flail about emotionally





shaking we sit after and have a biscuit



poetry

storm predicted, wind swept, the visitors came,
some to sail boats, while others to
pass the time of day, pleasantly.

we shall shelter from the rain

sbm.

two voices,

softly said,

“yes”

they cannot

understand the numbers

nor find their families.

sbm.

two voices, softly said, “yes” they cannot understand the numbers nor find their families.

sbm.

so anyway it all got me thinking about the radio pleas

please those with experience of this or that  ring in

or email us

i understand

yet



i will not





nor write of it



i have radio 4 downstairs and classic fm up

an old place and the signal comes

singular

as do i



i will speak of the joy

a brand new washing machine



after many years of hoping and cajoling

a rusted thing

she was looking for a purse



the shop was closed and

the guy with the longer hair

said it had gone broke



liquidised



the other said he lived in the doorway now



i could see it was good and deep

and with no customers

nil disturbance



he said

he lost the plot

when his mother died

ended in prison

before his new home

less

ness



in the doorway of the jewellery shop

with unsold rings over one thousands

pounds in the window



the first guy commented a wonder

no one had smashed the glass and

grabbed



sometimes he said

he liked a drink

made things feel better a while



she did not get her purse

made of cloth, for bandages, curls.

ribbons as is the fashion now.



rags for bandages, cut finger, wrapped,

tied a knot.



rags rolled in the war, women who

lost their sons, their brothers, pinned.



the pins that did not mend.

rags of clothes worn in poverty,

and art.



remember the rag and bone man. some of you,

nothing wasted. i tie your gift.



sbm.

wake up to see the shy pink.
clouds.

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

others searched the lines,
the crossing, looking
for reincarnations.

we thought they were
sheltering from the rain,
they did not seem to know,

when really they should.

the rugs are made of rag.

sbm.

watch, windows speck. days come lightly.



heavy hearts at leaving here. we remember

you. some times.



with  difficulty.

some times.



the sun shines,

some times it rains.



sometimes it looks calm when we can feel the wind.



lightly.



sbm.

Your words remind me of the joy  I felt with my first adult bike at 18, sweeping about the countryside. Dorset. Evenings.

I could not buy a car. I had no freedom then really & too scared to try.

Here we spell them tyres and glad for you they are coming.

My house is very old.

Full on day yesterday at Mill unpacking leather goods . The smell clings.

I needed help with my revulsion. The chamois and deer skins. She helped me and we became giggly despite the sadness.

Once again it is a pretty day and I have found that the tall plants are knapweed, and nearly flowered. The news plays on with out any good news . I am sure there is some, and I am sure it comes from the little things. they do not broadcast that,

I am pleased now with the not linen top described as linen. They gave me half my money back and it becomes a pyjama top. Loose and cool.

Your tales of your area and cold tea are of those words found in a novel. For me.

A surreal film. It has the makings of the sort I like, slow and determined.

The days move forward, we focus on the pleasantness mainly. We worry over the rest.

Now they play Elgar and I must get on with the day. Enjoy your new tires, your expeditions .
Sonja
6.29
With Capitals

she came in from the rain,  walking in the hills

for hours. they come most sundays, some all legs

and boots.



very wet.



left her gear outside, still had her coat on. where

are the toilets.  i told her.



I have to go outside?



yes.



she complained.



it is raining.i shall get wet!



yes.



she has been before and had observed that she felt too old for this.



i smiled at her with fondness.



sbm.

so now i ask bear,

what is ground hog day.



he says,

that is yesterday.



sbm.

so now i ask bear,

what is ground hog day.



he says,

that is yesterday.

mostly think so these days, even when worked out as planned.

have been wondering what is the point, like is there a point?

or is it all pins and needles. over lunch, we discussed.



i chose the duck wraps, minding my pronunciation. she pointed

out that the point may be, that there is none, therefore

being one.

I am going back to montgomery to buy a measuring

stick.



sbm.

introducing

razor rabbit



some killed him, ate him, in casseroles and pies.

i will keep him. called razor for his quick wit, his

courage in crossing rivers & railways

rescuing, saving

he is a hero

is razor rabbit….



wait for more from razor rabbit

the gift. from the interior,    petr borkovec translated.



ten years. each day one is read out loud, for all to hear,

though no one is here.



page is marked, label from the cushion where she sat,

sticking out.



why not practice reading?



no one is worried how it sounds.

no one is here.



sbm.

mostly read on the internet,

news, politics, all the rhetoric, yet



i have my favourites.



days that lack

deep concentration.



i mentioned earth &heaven.;



not asher lev.



it remains the same.



sbm.

so you work hard,
one task to another.

brain race, eyes cannot
keep up, reverse turn
read again. rush on
to washing, class and
garage. be known
that all is not italian,
though you wave your
arms, flap hands while
talking.

it can be an indication
of disorder, a slight
abstraction. tasks

repeating, sleep hard

wake to find a black shape
floating.

so you work hard?



sbm.

seems the punishment is     cancelled.



pat says some folk          paid the price

already.



we hope he is right. what benefit is

suffering?



there are leaflets to explain. in the

cathedral



&



other power houses.



i visit regular without no ticket.



the formal compaint has not yet

been realised.



it was well over a week ago.

i read daily.



sbm.

carrying the book, gently,
i find that jesus
is off the wall again.

breeze from the doors
blows him and cobwebbed minds
away,
as i write the small book,
on black keys of words.

gentle here this morning,
sun dreams in,
quiet in all the rooms,
and arms held high,
i come into the morning,
with string and sealing wax.
sbm.

there is  a need to pace about, wave the paper,

move the arms. need to pause and       counter

act. if this reading thing                      will work.



maybe moving eliminates the standing       still,

precisely that  leads to a self concious       pose.



the need to read is ready. rehearsals held each day

focus                                                     on the oak tree.



alongside reading then, is a little light excercise



plus a method of solidarity.



sbm.

what some folk feel is right

others consider wrong, some

write with the music

a few fail, falter

without much to live on

no one to care for them



some say this is not fair,             yet

i find that fair does not even figure



this life you gets what you gets

and feels how you choose to

after

dealing



however the dice fall

the cards come out



this may be your heaven

here on earth



if you like

if that is the way to think



really, oh really.

i woke the bear.

‘ i am inordinately tired now, and you have been away all night. that is not an accusation ,it is an observation.’

yes. is there anything i can do?



‘yes, let me sleep a long time. i wish to be private a while.



yes. yet this is not the season for hibernation.

‘no,  i do not follow the rules, nor crowds, my way is different. i shall still talk to you

in your head, so you will not miss me’



thank you, i know.



the sun came out.



sbm.

some want their receipts, other don’t.

it is all a matter of taste, etiquette,
upbringing and security. in the bag or
wallet sir?

some check at home, that all is well,
secure and safety. some shred, while others
burn the evidence of careful spending.

i put them in the compost bin, where only
the resident mouse will see them.

it eats well there.

i know not its gender,
nor political persuasion.

there is a shop nearby,
a charity that sells
some things for a penny.

i bought an orange collander.

sbm.

good news indeed
hopes that you improve
steadily
with good things to eat
with plenty of drinks for

we must not get dehydrated
time off work is good for they

will find how good you are
and how it is without you

maybe
maybe

i will go to the orchard
and maybe not for the
stress factor
may be high

too much for a mouse like me
do you think it will be heavy
work

too much for a mouse
like me

lay the boards,
balance those you can.

softly the music plays.

there are no rules,
conquer space,
those idle artefacts

mostly red,
borrow
or buy cheaply.

it does not cost much,
to be friends, to dance,
create an atmosphere.

some things are red.



sbm.

in a white room, blood on the pillow.

empty rooms sublime, look how
the light comes, how the red,
glows.

into warmth here, and above.

he is a solitary man.

sbm.

sea

swim

.

cotton

threads

.

Red.

Pain applied on canvas.

Empties space

and fills with red, peace And Rothko

. red .


a white room, blood on the pillow.
empty rooms sublime, look how
the light comes, how the red,
glows.

into warmth here, and above.

he is a solitary man.

sbm.

can you believe it.              that it was said?

red cross.



we should help    people in this country

first, not those abroad   scared and dying.



that she asked about her washing,      yes i

hang it in the garden, in    sun and breeze

to dry fresh.



she replied that is what peasants do.

do you believe that?



red cross shop.



some say she has a face lift!



sbm.

red cross



a simple sign that says kindness helps



and needs volunteers



so i do one day a week alone upstairs

if possible



the power of such a thing is endless



as i sift and sort the black bags and

cardboard box i think of you



a leather bag with purse: pink plastic comb

still grubby with your hair intact.

lace handkerchiefs, letters i leave unread.



dead people’s handbags, dead folks

clothes. mothballs they say are hard

to come by, i know different, smell them now.



washing hands is regular. compulsive.



odours cling. thoughts sing that kindness

comes easy.



sounds, chatter from the store below rise and when  thoughts subside

i listen here and there, customers clients and staff.



the box contains your little things, the company of pretty

your joy of small items



dust coats the air, motes of your living days. a drink is

welcome. move on.



another bag is baby clothes, joyful thoughts of children growing.



showing them to colleagues we smile together, steaming in

the upper room



warm the days now, summer the nights are hotter. murmuring continues below.



you hear things if you listen.



she said

we should help    people in this country

first, not those abroad .

****** immigrants



yet these are the numbers the scared and dying

the





established volunteer talking loudly  to her young customer

asking about the washing,

  yes i

hang it in the garden, in    sun and breeze

to dry fresh.



staff  replied that is what peasants do.

gippos, you know their sort.



i stopped the sorting.

saddened

report it

fight, flight or write of it?



i touched a little coat gently

said goodbye to that upper room left quietly

it is hard to do nothing, not react



my issue



their sign says kindness helps

red cross

a red cross

it was the bow that done it

confusing the issue

& the hair



gender equation



his tongue sprang out pink

his knees buckled



embarrassed by the tag

labelled annie



while all the while

he felt like a boy



these things / these things



yet when recovered stood proudly before us ears

pricked high



while the man laid the fire



taste the ash

yesterday starts my car and bang bang bang
gets out and the tyre is flat as flat

so the recovery comes and says heck
the spring has broke and gone through
the tyre and i cannot move it from here
with just my van

and my baby is due any day now
in time for the holidays so i shall

ring for help

help comes all in orange visibilty and
a confident air to take the car efficiently

how lucky i am it did not break on the road
yet by the gate where good things happen

with birds and visitors

later i imagine it happening while driving

reenacting verbally
BANG BANG BANG

there was a storm at eight when the tv signal
went off

early rain
to clear later
a mld and blustery day

cross referencing, numbers,

related articles.

noted.

lists are added

pages  filed , named, ordered.

all things have a place, bottled,

pickled in stead for a hard

winter coming.

locked away in time,

discarded.

retained  specially in mind.

he is a librarian.

sbm.

it is an older mirror,
speckled with time.

liquid memories,

we make a place of safety
with our thoughts and habits.

our work. our souls
are in our chests.

look here, she said.
please, do not touch
the ladies bed,
with lavender and velvet pillow.

the way is barred now,
the time is past.

things have become misshapen.

sbm.

on what is or is not,

reflection on life,

and what is not.

reflections,

ourselves back to front.

or not.

the kindness that is.                                             glass reflecting.   slowly it starts.   maybe we need to check our numbers?

sbm.