light is wonderful


lifts the brain and  limbs

beyond


sparkles   rain  the morning


once again we have the repetition

of words


shapes fly

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

onward.

you like birds?

as do i

neither of us employed
&  i am vaguely idle

furlough ended &  was
invited back part time

you see i said no

& despite protestations
seem to enjoy

for now a bus ride
and coffee

for it is raining a little

james


8.30

forgot to say
that one bear
here
now has silk floral pants

as in underwear
not pants as in america

here we say trousers

anyhow there is no photograph

the guy in the charity
says there are no doll’s
clothes in stock

do you say thrift?

6.20am

all ok for me here
even though my battery
gone low

writing before
it recharges

life is pleasant
even with the arrival

of

monkey pox thing
avoiding zeds all together

guess you know more about war
than most

good you have your benefits
now

he asked to be friends
with suchlike

so we replies no just pals

and he don’t understand

hahaha

am not bothered
me

maybe you will help
with the writing

it was a documentary
so i guess it is still there

james

16.26

#slabcity

is it acceptable to think in phrases, believe the attrocities yet do not share them

with friends.

maybe some do not plunge right in
just dabble on the surface

flick in puddles
like little birds

some thing is changing here,

so slight it can hardly be

noticed.

yet it has been.  a feeling,

came after light rain .

careful what you dream on a cusp of night. know that all stars are not the same

seen  through the net nightly

look at the weathered walls

hear the song come random

with words true for us with no argument

and our insides curl

with these feelings

we shall have more paintings


i can see the marks & lines
pushing through

despite the weather


to spite
the storms

a thing so private, so intense .   . simple , complex. no one will see it .  

                        note your achievements to date.                     .hell no

dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low

over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.

all is dust, as dust we have become.

maybe connections are missed the link dismissed.    

metaphors faint as my flimsy whispers  

symbols   do you deny me peace?   perhaps you utter the words constantly?  

look closely

best to be gentle with those and all other things…

fraction of the whole

blue sky thinking

here

slip away
we watched them slip away

the news came suddenly

yes

using phrases like the enemy
it don’t go unnoticed here either

repeat

that

i don’t paint like you

or you

&

need to convince myself

fear of falling,
breaking,
and losing
the soft words
of my life

broke

shattered

broken reflections

of a former life

smashed as it hit the floor

details
and wonder if there is any hope

will they miss me there or
merely carry on regardless

dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low

over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.

all is dust, as dust we have become.

they  do not know the darkness

how the light can fade into latin

& all things unreasonable

while nothing is like usual no more

fires burning with evacuations

this global thing and the other things

he said the flames

came over the trees.

behind the buildings.

bombed the buildings.

this thing can **** the life even from

those hiding.


so they may  go live underground.


war of the worlds

bone of the soul

earthy dark
below ground

no crystals here

on checking I find
my dictionary

which explains.

it means

a place of discussion & debate

which it is indeed.

yet I don’t do that no more

really….

we wonder how it will map
out

we have wondered before
when waking to a misted world

he says people will carry on
the fight;

while
those on the streets suffered
even more this week

some comes shocking and hard

to bear

james.

fighting the predictions

struck dumb

i shook to think of you all

looking up as one plane flew over

asked if he referred to the war

which we consider affects us all

he nodded then sat down in his garden chair

"and who allowed you to live a beautiful life?”

broke

shattered

broken reflections

of a former life

smashed

a world of extremes

or maybe the contradictions

were dreamed

move them into a place
of loose adjustment

random offerings

anyhow we done the draft

then turned it round about


a few more hours fiddling
and it may suffice
with a double eff

it comes a wider space, with mistakes and misgivings.

nothing in this world is perfect.

seems we have a similar taste, rather gathering than buying​
prefer reclamation than boutiques

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

and paint

today we deliver eggs to blaenau
the family

and travel by bus
a splendid route

you know

painted my outsides in happy 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

some things fade with time,
with sun and washings.

this one remained bright,
even glaring

explicit blunderings, darkness descends

with out the need for words. pray for

forgiveness if you are so inclined.

wild here this morning
wind in the chimney
rain on the glass

and talking of that
little lamp blew down outside


broke

never mind

sleep was rattled by weather
thoughts of war too hard to write

yet one day i will

i guess you know more than me

i don’t know what a tent shelter is

but I can imagine

so far few plans for a day unless it clears

james

feels necessary to hold onto memories
and to repeat myself

it may be a habit writing
here
each day

hearing your news

or maybe an act of solidarity james

while wondering

find there are possibly two
of us

me
and the one i was pretending
to be

here is a thing
in that
we trotted along nicely
back then

when no one
said nothing

we thought no one read here
and that was ok and we came
huddled in and private

possibly our way and the circumstances
you know, the virus and now the war

then folk here said they read it
while we were astonished and
though it rattled us

find

we miss you if you do not visit
a while

and we get all our tenses and lines
wrong and have to go back in a hurry

to amend


and self conscious of too many

ands

you see

wonder if i shall write serious,

tell thee all  hard stories that

don’t exist. i wonder if i shall stop,

when no one reads.