wednesday, the shops shut early.

here.there are still tourists around.

or new people. i bought some sweets,
a thimble,a packet of screws, one
light bulb.

chatted about face book in the mongers.

i moved here in 1993. I am an immigrant.

sbm.

we went

were constructive

experienced

and overcame

any difficulties

the moon shone huge

on our horizon

the wind bit

like alligators

while fires burned

around the world

even in bolton

easier now he is older
he tells me what he wants

i buy it
plus
a surprise

simpler now i am older
i tell them what i will like

they buy it
plus a surprise

he told me this story as it is quite true

he read it in a book of life

so i will not write of it

here



dead soldjers

can you clamber
through the rocks
slipping into water
oily boots leaking?

can you stride out
over dewy moors
peat bogged
with no direction?

will you come with me
to these places
my spaces
and make history?

will you sit a while
amid the berried hedges,
sheltering,
remembering?

will we shout at the wind,
running, laughing
knowing
that this is ours
for the taking

or

will you stay home,
stay safe

and bleed?

sbm

this  dark gloomy morning

may cause

a random feeling



despair dealt

another way



time creeps forward with splintered light     creaking

of humility



it happens every year



sinusitis

almost rhymes with

tinnitus



no punctuation



sbm

gently go forward, then gently back
recreating past deeds and misdemenours
you thought forgotten.

gently go forward knowing we are mostly
all the same, with motes not spoken of,
except disorder.

gently it passed behind you, seen
clearly while looking for god.

gently gather autumn leaves to keep
in paper bags. these are the golden
days .

my friend.

sbm.

now the grass is mowed
with stripes. perfumed air
pervades the lanes, the corridors.

tell me tales of oswald.
crow bird proposed,
the ring returned..

perhaps his presence
was required?

one wonders if they asked
before they hung him
on the tree,
oswald's tree.

perfumed air
pervaids the lanes.



shropshire, such a pretty place.

sbm.

looking for a legacy

i find nothing / no words

no comfortable leavings



parting on the wrong side

can be painful



some hide secrets

i do not



we hope you will feel good

about pins

solitude is usual , even welcomed.

trips out reveal another state. the mind
and all travelling excites, while the horse
waits for the grist by the mill, i await
silence.

again.

these are the old sayings, new happenings.

he asked me a question, then i replied.

endlessly. it may be a gift?

sbm.

so the saving failed,                            thats

probably that i had nothing to            say.

oh yes i can talk loads, chatter,             you

ask anyone. most of the time we are  quiet.

there is the radio and the birds outside.

how clever you are that you can write about

anything.                              someties i cannot.

we hope it will come like spring,         quietly

in.

sbm.

punch was as pleased,

as larry was happy.

small gifts. buttons,
came, loose, tiny.

some in packets,
some in jars, stray
one in the pocket,
washed now,
probably lost.

lately we had
one in exhibition,
with thread still
attached.

the larger ones are private,
kept round the house
for comfort.

i heard some people
dislike them, phobias.

appalachian spring.

sbm.

the red coat was hiding under layers, but i saw it. red it is, worn, shabby. a friend you say. lining cream silk crumple. the label harris tweed, heather washed, as old. the back a thin satin sash to tie. …

much of the time is spent with this or other things which pass the day nicely.   use the brain. remembering strong wrapping paper in folded sheets.   woolworths.   i have a modern roll that tears easily, yet now …

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.

remember the  old things, ways.   people needles and pins. hold on the shawl, wrapped round, pinned close, stay safe.   be well in your mending, despite the pain, raddled cotton threads.   pinned  to hold life, rusty hinges, prepared …

another day of counting, numbers. some escape the concious gaze, while some are far remembered. numbers incorrect, we move our gaze to mirrors. slanted the world looks pleasant, thread and buttons surround. this is not a metaphor..

the dream, the threads parted a while. visitors came, the day proceeded gently with stops and dictation, who is this?


we worried over news, trembled a while, gathered back the warp, the weft. today we continue.

sbm.

i understand although of course I
am still at home
even lazy that rainy day

we shall not compare yet
seems I am the same as

some others, still quiet

they all came the weekend
in the sun parking the
roads by the mountain

the bus could not get through
safely

it was on the news
social media and

in conversation

we feed the birds
and in the week when
the road is quiet hear
the birds say

is it you?
the reply
is it you ?

comes soon after

it is not the reply concerns me
it is the wellbeing and safety

do not fall to sleep james
sing loudly…..

that is the welsh spelling, guess the english

is hughes shop, where they have many items

of use, substance, for some an entertainment.

various style pins, in various size boxes, folded

cotton handkerchieves, with a separate room

for night and underwear, where the lady will

serve the ladies.

she feels the cod, and he wears winter mittens.

windows are colour coordinated, the clothes

link arms, bed socks abound. fluffy.

this is a most useful place, where one can

buy traditional, hire hats for splendid weddings,

hats will last, with  the marriage, time

will tell.

not visited, please do, it is next to  roberts,

the coffee shop.

both splendid premises. dolgellau.

sbm.

did you say passe partout?  did you say alone  in this corner?



i have been to ireland recently, took my documents,           my bag

and passport.



it is another country.



we were away a week and on returning felt slightly low.  lower

now since the article.                the helicopter crash up the road.



can you imagine?



they were going

to ireland too. they

never got there.



(  written  with respect )



the roads are still closed,

i just drove past.      been

to buy plants.



it was a red one.



sbm.







daily post : passport

fog and mist are very slow to clear,

affecting roads and visibility.

no affection here, no one is moving yet.

we hear mansel davies, see the lights,

they are working men, as are we.

some just start later.

he bet me that i did not do a good days work,

i won, just come and watch me.

sbm.

for those in peril on the sea

plays each morning steadily.



fingers tap the sounds, the words,

little ideas readily.        wore rags,

ate off broken plates before

it was screened.



yet i bet this is not a first,

not really our idea.



so we keep on mending, making, pray

for those at sea.



sbm.

seems soon to me
i have been isolated
ten weeks now and
waiting for news

from our first minister
not the prime minister

for we are another country

especially in this house
where all come quiet the
piano playing

where we come kind & welcoming

i wonder if i will go back
or draw a line on the madness

i talk to him regular about it and
he will like me to stay of course

who else will look after him not
throw him away

who else will mend his dress or
wash his pyjamas james

it was a joke
now comes serious

she said i can borrow her bike
she is taller than me james

so i fixed the water **** and down pipe
cussing the one that came before and
left it scrappy

got hot talked it through with logic

a professional would ******* the work
which seems to work

so far james

so far we have come
tomorrow i have a small celebration here alone

i wrote it down and refered to it later in the day

eggs over easy?

light rain

there are bits  of us everywhere,

shed as we move, as we live.



most of it held together with skin.



no way to clear the debris daily,

it remains .boil the hankies then,

do your best to keep it neat and tidy.



spend the day in the warm, with plenty

to do, keep cheerful.



maybe watch the national theatre of brent.



revolution.



sbm.

it hurt so much we walked extra.

took the mind of it. edwin says

it usually stings a lot.



we pulled the skin back, cleaned

the grit off, then laid it carefully

back.



later i met robby’s mother

in the lane, and agreed the

forest looks dark and bogey

today.



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.

you do not understand

it

whilst

elsewhere it trends

being on the front page

now



some did not stay in the sky dome long



yet the little dog

sat down



looked up

we stood in the lane
talking of old days
and fat bacon.

two helecopters
flew low.

the estuary.





i thought
the dakota
incident

would be
about planes



1234

lay dead . do not speak nor ask for   fear.

lay quiet. do not write nor tell. there    are

new shoes by the wardrobe.     at an angle.

still. do not move nor participate in  any

way.

do not breathe, nor cry. there are    new

shoes by the wardrobe,            new shoes.



sbm.

i am small in this place







slate looms large

thrown unbalanced

waiting for water

to start the slide



small boys know to run

at the noise, shelter

from the war.



I know no such thing,

my soul slides into mud,



i am small

even when very tired, the pattern remains the same,
the sentences longer. this is not an issue, and is
accepted gratefully.

they say that the latter will bring immense relief,
to try it consciously.

difficult words, go google, copy, paste then
even then,
it may be wrong in someone’s mind.

so continue to sleep in three hour slots,
and not to worry.

sbm.

until managing to raise,

saw through lace,

reality, a piece of mind,

distracted.



words of seeds,

logistics of moving

came commonplace.



working,





all will be well.

sbm

these are the shorter days,
darker days, woodsmoke,
apple wood, colours of joy.

believe in the world, that
you can spell first time.

be proud as you point
out where you live, at
all there is.

i go offline a while.

while, all will be well.

sbm

work is steady, absorbsion as if the outside world is ended.    looking up find it has not.





stitching can be rhythmic, and never mind the capitals.             other words confound.



birds beat the window, damp now,                                       little feathers hoping for food.



now we  descend into darkness.



so you think i wear a cotton dress, while all round is storming,                      i do not.



i wear pyjamas.



sbm.

one small thing may be enough



each day comes layered



some pain persists

slowly





changes



with some interventions



have you heard about the brigands?

he asked me to do

it. pick it up with fingers.

i did. i love him.



it was in the way

of him playing, so with no

disgust, i moved it.



we had a lovely

day. the sun was warm. he will

be nine on tuesday.



sbm.

neatly pressed, uniformed,
looking for matron.

the vestibule, signing in,
taking out. small girl
grown older, bolder now.

these are the growing days.
big school, and endless
performances. not yet
the final curtain.

you made no difference
whatsoever.

small girl.

sbm.

. small items .

made without regret,
yet red cotton to
give away on thursday
and saturday evening,

the first word being welsh.

i remind thee, free art,
do not eat me.

we had a meeting yesterday.

fluxus

sbm.

words came as i walked the lane with you,
watched the swallows. thinking i will write
them down back home. leaned on the bridge a while
boatmen dancing.

where have the years gone?

words lost.

radio news .

gaza.

sbm.

what small thing
touched you yesterday,
touched your heart.

among the larger issues,
outstanding nonsense,
did some thing
stop you in your tracks
to wonder.

one small thing.

did you too
forget richard parker ?

sbm.

it may be a small voice

small talk

strong syllables

rather than shouted blasphemy

is that what you mean by small talk?



or do you mean idle conversation

about nothing in particular



i can do that too



we talked about carrots that evening

prompted by a stranger



how do you cook them or do you

eat them raw and grated



great that one can cut them differing shapes



she said she decides how to cut them  according

to the accompanying veg

or company



you know if you are with friends it is good to

eat them easy

without bits hanging out

of the mouth



is that what you mean by small talk?



or do you mean words of one

part

not too many syllables like

that last word there



or tiny words squeaked like a mouse

very quietly



i can do that too



i can write small talk with voice

are those that delight in small things

also permitted to be upset by small things?



the question raised

while waiting

it is a shrew

i think

brought to me

dropped on the mat

so we made a little

chair and kept it



never smelled bad

at all

even now is in a box

a little shrunk yet

still a visual delight

for me

along side

the other things

are you much better

now

i am alright

a good life

#smew

i don’t know what you mean

dancing about like that.        i





thought you said you will make

some cake next. i heard you say



it.



currants are not needed unless

you have no spice



for flavour you could make biscuits



snappy



crocodiles



some people take it for stomach pain



my father ate peppermints           he

had an ulcer. some say he drank too

much



i chose the ginger beer down in somerset



sbm.

blows all things out the window

it started with mohair, carried
on with warmer weather.

need a hankie, they are clean
and ironed in the box by the bed.

not everyone is immune, i have
heard there is high pollution in
the air.

sand from the sahara.

other things are clear, all clear.

sbm.

leaned by the window cold / thought that if snow falls it may land /if trees grow it may be up /if we all plant seeds they may be food

rift winter days                                                             ­       curtains dragged across the gloom early
yet while light lingers we wander to the snow                                    hear the last bird call

snow or heavy rain dark the days are the evenings darker

forecasts bring gloom and panic then are cancelled minutes later the phone kicks off

ice is predicted / mountains white

my snow day

much of the time is spent with this or other things which pass the day nicely

linen threads hang heavy / needles preserved / small holes ready…

250064235375626932608264217839243961040896_n

with capitals and longer sentences
she said i was odd, so i took that ok.

yet when later i said she was odd, she
said it was an insult……………



i washed my hands until they came shiny & ever
so slightly sore

met her yesterday in a studio space.  a possibility for me if I have to leave bala.

anyhow the point is I like her stuff and handy recipes. she makes string from nettles and now I know how.

he makes twiggy bits from briars, a tin lid with holes to deduct the thorns, and now I now how too.

emotional day yesterday.  friday club  fit in their new venue, only not physically. we used to

meet at the quarry cafe.  it has closed  so we go to celtica, light windowed with golden pillars.

made peace with cate

home to strim the grass and egg myself on with the promise of icecream

like miro, saw his stuff in barcelona in travelling days. mainly I stay in these countries, the union they call it. wales is talking of independence recently.

i am blown away by Anselm Keiffer a lot, a lot.

tea is lukewarm now, and the laptop battery is low. soap is important, i feel my mother made it so. we sniffed it on unwrapping and I was given the innner paper for drawing.

always pointed out the logo imprinted. fairy, breeze and posh days, lemon. lemon for gran at christmas. bromnley.I keep mine spares in a tin in the airing cupboard or the mice nibble.

lady on the bus told me her sister kept lots of soap and what did I think. I says she sounds like me.

we have lots of quarries here, mainly redundant or become tourist sites. zip world, bounce below, the deep mine.

deep mine, where they hung by chains to pick. where they sang at break, became the choirs.

family live at the base of the slate tip. gloddfa ganol, by llecwedd.

at mill again today. they say the prince of wales is visiting up the road soon, mallwyd. i do not care.

people swam the blue lake, a quarry hole. they left their ******* and over years the farmer’s patience failed and he blocked the tunnel entrance.

clear peripheries, learn to spell curiousity

burnish wax. today a small task

layered in air …

i dreamed I had been here so long
that I went into town and it had all changed

yet I know from reason this is not so

after speaking yesterday I thought of the soap dishes
in two parts

made of enamel both white and colours

in use they need to be taken apart and washed

for the suds seeps through to the lower parts
to congregate

lanoline

i have mainly white upstairs
red in the kitchen

while the candlesticks also of a similar
genre

with little handles to hold

so enamel eh?

with kettles, jugs and bowls we come happy here
and will write of something else tomorrow

maybe

used by now to this and hoping it may continue

i find beauty in soap

the look the meaning

the cleanliness

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 .}

come in many styles,
walking, soft top, striped,
you name it , they make it,
market it.

now then i buy cheap ones,
5 pair a go quite comfy,
with dots mainly.

we talked of clough ellis, his yellow
breeches, long wool hose to knee,
all arty and architecture.

she liked the woolly ones, chose
a dull colour over pink.

a day of rearrangement.

as you were.

sbm