asked why i wanted it
i said that i did not know

he had a box in the room
to stand on
to see

we may all need one of those

the medicine works

though leaves the passages

dry

triggers sets me thinking of cowboys

we don’t have those here either

the word came involuntarily,
others were stuck, yet i knew
them to be beautiful, and
so they are.

he stood like a dancer,
arms out.

he looked
and moved,
like a dancer.

when the smaller

people go into hiding

where will genius

raise its head again,

among the flat islands of regard?

has been a long time coming, it lasted many years,

now is gone.

all of it, all the straight ideals and weathered work.

were the markers always there
left by some other
wanderer?

on paper
In the studio
that was so precise and quite particular

was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent

or is it the air changing?

mood settles, or is it the
time of year?

initially it was said

that secondly should be

second and initially

should be first

i was confused that

nobody said third

and comforted

by the sound of fourth

a

memory of moth

may understand the red thing

enjoyed the film with the colours
yellow and gorse along
the path

days on the sands
skipping up through the tracks seeing
the adder

sea fret  in by six.      today the sky has lifted early.

Yet the days moved nicely. There were little troubles, nothing to diminish the beauty of it all.

only  stone

set before

set like fire in empty barns

#readthat

the social worker was a ***** back then

#didyoureadthat?

he was worried over the empty barn. #metaphor .it  survives,

some

way.

we are little things

that dance in the mornings

james

by the light of the phone….

large rocks

fenced off yet

maybe i will

creep through

and touch

one quiet day

one stone

one finger touch

a ritual

who knows what lies underneath

here the land goes up and down

water drains

into rivers

undeniably tracing honesty in the air

with one finger

pointing.

it came clear later..

an old story remembered
that warm afternoon while all were playing

relaxing.

the hunted tried not to sleep

there

grass

holds the sand.

sand holds

the grass.


have you walked the dunes

hollowed path, coconut gorse.


have you found contentment there?


have you sat the sun, black crow bird,

have you closed your eyes at that

within, enjoyed that

without?


the tin hut is still empty.

imagine you a pirate, with stripey trousers
and a large black patch

on imagining things
sometimes scare myself silly

yesterday a sea fret, misted trees,

added edge ; visual delight.

i like the road to there.

driving the land, the songs,
carry us along, to our place,
the constant places,
we think don’t change

pale words a clue in the breathing

the stone set left in barns

caught the words hopefully in burning hands thinking that the sky was clear

though in the past

never so far away

i need to move them into a place
of loose adjustment
of random offerings
and sketchy lines

we went out on the chain ferry across to the beach
all sun sea gulls and possibilities

day of freedom

all became a thing yesterday
regarding these marks of ours

and we finished
on this

i hope you do not mind

we look for sand

there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea

the sea that is rising

they  do not know the darkness

how the light can fade into latin

& all things unreasonable

unlike the landscape hereabouts yet only up the road

up the road where all comes beyond reality to help with reality

is all a pattern, that keeps us safely,        moves us

onward.

my quiet friends felt shaky

weary while getting back to

somethings

sometimes
a while in a box
will do nicely…

listen, repeat the
random insects.

stitch another way.

spread out as cotton threads

knotted

&

i will not mention the word

liking rags
i move on
with differing
music

the trial by glass

required for mending always

yesterday she explained to sew

the four holes in synchronicity

tight

on linen

yesterday the words came easily with labels

i think my work,

my soul

is in

my chest.

they did not know she had many, neither did she. just collected one item at a time, cared fully for         each one of them.                                                                                                          catalogued

a darker green,
jasmine climbs the window,
storms brew, we are older now.

moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail

don’t work if not connected, if not tuned in, you would think the experts would know that.  we need to signal to another.

time is limited these days. those one admired in youth devastate us now.   can we know all things, we only went twice ?

you asked me to explain,

i did so lightly. the other said no one else

dare ask.

i tell you it is a full and complicated story

we can hear  the scratching

when dark comes

comes the scuttlings

flutterings  outside

best to be gentle with those and all other things…

new mathematics

the rooms were swept yesterday

bones hidden

teeth implied

yet the shape remains embedded

5
power house looms ahead. they pray for peace and family, their lovely homes and

salary. pigs. work for the people supposedly.

slipped sideways.

while all remains the same, something is different.