trawsfynydd, we forgot the buzzing,
only heard the wind, for
wind there was this time.

the sky predominant, a gap
for the light to pass

whisper from you came
a good idea
to stop those dreams and headaches

the moon came bright with yet another name

so flimsy it is hardly there.
so worn, it is almost dead.

recreate the dying in your head.

so small it is hardly there.
so cheap it is almost dead.

draw it. recreate the scene in your head.

yellow
drawn by the name not just the colour
and oh that name come true
on opening jim

is fading now
yet remains as the description

it was at the bus stop where the buses converge

transfer the passengers

where everyone talks though

not about that, nothing like that.

she came from dolgellau, said hello and talked about all those things, no fuss, just honestly ,

on the way to berlin.

shades defining.
now I have to say that I usually like
the colour as items, yet maybe not
as entity.
I face the slate
grey
and bleed red

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.