find the place overwhelming and claustrophobic, yet as you say some bits are interesting if i can stand the first bits.

met the tank man when i was there who talked lots.

knows all about tanks.

says he is in the pub if I want to chat.

they captured him because they could,

then told him he was free to go.

as he walked away

they shot his face off.

intentions to change it all
then see what is already there and
carry on quietly
knowing the change will come
whether slowly or suddenly
james

mentioning that, please note, it is only

certain elements that startle.

the fear of falling mentioned before, yet i stride out confident and all the while my brain is in-flight with dizziness and disconnect

on pavements.

though, there is a softer sound,

on earth or grass am capable

whilst oft i fly….

told him when he asked about dinner
with his sister


we laughed and the wind blew things
away

wrote the other day about the coal man falling

being brought into our kitchen

the memories

the marks

mother preparing the chicken killed by the fox in the small holding next door and donated

five of us and are asked to watch

i look away

the table is wood and wide

our gas stove grey with little legs,white door, a downward handle,

space under

where the cat hides

near christmas, she washes the dried fruit and puts under a tea towel on the side

we eat bits

we think she will not know

guess she does and how we laugh when the ginger beer blows up in the larder

i wonder when he eats a whole swiss roll….he dies some weeks after.

my brother..

i don’t like walking in snow

laugh at them talking in metaphors
yet I do the same

laugh at them talking in metaphors
yet I do the same

came shiny
lovely at 45 degree angle

oh no
he said
this is the wrong one

sadly some folk laughed at him called him names.

it is the blue tie and orange
top that looks distinctive..

..today..

ideas ,
allelujas of creativity.

let the change come slowly,

join the group.

using the light spots,
neglecting the dark,
except the margins.

so we go
dear child moving
forward.

these are the warmer days, days of independance.

days to charm

listen
to the divine air now
we are starting to breath
a little

no one
is looking, there is no one here. we are not afraid of
the night.

we spin.

coal and seed merchant at the top

by the turning before the fire

station

on the left going up

opposite where my brother worked on saturdays

in the fishmongers

both places had a particular aroma

you may just imagine

he brought home crab claws for tea and i did not like them

liked the seed merchant, allowed to feel and hold unlike the coal that too had names

nutty slack, briquettes and smokeless

while others remain unremembered

google reminds

&

late afternoon light beams the cabinet & mind wonders

think of granny and her ham tea with thick white fat and orange edging.

do not dignify the challenges. tread sweetly,
move on.

it is simply.
not worth fretting.

what is it?

how will they know for thinking
comes silent inside our heads
unless we utter

think of you, who made it special

and we leaped with the preparations, little folk.

he came round the back of the house, my beautiful

the coal house next to the toilet by our back door

once he fell and mother brought him in and his hands went to the walls and surfaces for support, making marks

i

fancy mother made him tea, with sugar

we moved house not so beautiful, my beautiful

upstairs, it was carried upstairs by the front door prepared with newspaper wads to stop the dust and me parked behind to count the bags.

always correct, failing the story of short loads and money on the side

now my beautiful, is delivered to the bunker outside and the delivery note put through the letter box for me

beautiful house for me yet

one never forgot the first

my beautiful.

varying kinds
and ages

it dries and cracks if not stored with care

biscuit tins are useful

becomes larger as time moves on.
it started early, with greek poetry,
the radio, which played all day.

maybe

is was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent.

much has happened since

the power house rears its head again,
pouring images down
like rain.
while gavin bryars plays
on and on
repeated.

look at each gentle place,
to keep in a pocket
of love,for that rainy
day, you do not go.

maybe we need to check our numbers at the end, see if one or more are missing.          count them carefully, one side then the other.it is all a pattern, that keeps us safely,        moves us
onward.

as i rose,

a pink mist descended.

it was actually already there,

i like the sound of the action here.

i thought the window misted,

my glassses steamed,

walked room to room,

and from the windows saw,

the softest steam morning

on the mountain,

through the trees.

the promise of another

day in wonderland.

:: tides are higher now, flooding the paths. he walked the mud, bringing the footsteps back to us ::

life goes on
the mark remains

it was remarked that there is no hurry
that we have the rest of the winter

becomes part of the
pattern
a mark on the horizon

could change it for another yet it has become
a mantra

a pause like in breathing

Which are often spelled as doughnuts.

My confession comes next.

I thought about those donuts a lot, and wondered if it is the jam or the crispy sugar coat which is the main delight.

So guiltily thought of visiting while in Portmadog and eating one without you and then feeling the need to confess on meeting with you.

Even pushed the door yet they were closed.

The alternative was Spooners yet even there would not be the same without your company, so went to the Port and just had coffee.

Bought a pack of donuts in Tesco before catching the bus.

On return see on Social media that Spooners was closed for refurbishment anyhow.

I hope it don’t snow.

Hoping you have had a good week also, maybe with some donuts…

With all this talk of donuts, remembered Mum taking us to an ideal home exhibition at the Wiinter Gardens and she bought a metal donut implement to fry batter.

Delicious.

Note..If you are arrived in Blaenau early on Tuesday, the Model Bakery there used to/may have donuts, the heaviest I have ever eaten…

That got me through the first months on my own.

Looking up observe the doll has dusty hair.

all became a thing yesterday
regarding these marks of ours
a bit of a collaboration
on twitter and we finished
on this
i hope you do not mind

a differing light
shades and all that surrounds
i drew them later
my way

take note of the numbers,
especially those with 9, as
in 29.

the page is speckled,
left unread mostly these days,

should that dot be approved
and how about the predicted?

we came here early with many thoughts and remnants of the dream

so i googled it,
and this is probably
as good as it
gets today.
i shall be sketchy
a few days.
slightly offline
maybe.

eight thirty  till five.   it could have been easy, yet there were issues of the electronic kind   meaning wasting time with wires and connections.

cover the surface.   it takes time.

where is the power house,
metal books he said.

concrete palaces for those
that prey.

he grew it plant like,
fought it,
numbered it
thirteen.

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.

blows ideas into our houses

messages bring connections

a busy day with folk talking

it was said the rock had failures

&

shouts of bingo.

three types conceived

which is possibly the max.

boston lodge

walking back on the cob in rain thought this is our take on rock, and that the rock is possibly being regular rock.

.some define folks this way.

faults.

they  do not know the darkness
how the light can fade into latin
& all things unreasonable

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

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

feels necessary to hold onto memories
and to repeat myself

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.

red depleted.

i use blue.


oh the darkness of it all,the surface tension,primeval scream
hidden by centuries of crimson

a touch of red
suggested at dinner, to make
a photograph splendid, i noticed
the same in paintings at exhibition.

looking out, the grave yard, noticed
a touch of colour by the white.