we shall never know
for there is no microscope
here
moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail

seems we gets busy here and there
yet cannot verbally explain why we write
and paint

black dog,
barks.
below the llan.

such is the change of time
i have been around for  an
hour
extra

so far we have read the rules
in black and white
in print
meanwhile others translate them in different colours
i read your poetry in the rain

liking the format, liking the days
that come natural now without
no planning
evolving gradually

my heart is in my chest

a particular siding

i feel it sometimes

when i am walking hard or eating chilli

so i avoid that last thing

mostly

pink i expect with tubes

mostly like in the pig’s hearts

mum used to buy from the butchers

for dinner

now i am vegetarian


i think that if i have a soul

it may be behind the heart

hiding

and maybe that is where my work

comes from

it seems odd that at times of rest and when all is quiet around

that i cannot hear it

nor the other workings

like lungs and veins and stomach

oh!


except the latter rumbles