the mass, the clouds lay heavy, rain that came, that blinded again. blinded those that could not see the love and idle artefacts, each one a statement of nothing in particular.

now the days grow lighter, my head is
tied back on, and all seems well.

Shoreline would be more an exploration of the concept….shorelines more related to actual examples…..how about that?

feels necessary to hold onto memories
and to repeat myself

it all starts here today
and will take a long time

there are so many many of us
lots upon lots

though early the lanes are clear
he sees no one
only the ice and frost

goes tentatively in the wrong boots

imagines the slipping so moves
the phone to a front pocket in

case

his imagination runs riot
as before and remembering

not to use the first word
that comes in his mind

or too many recognizable
cliches james

so we talked about dna alterations
those tracking devices they say are
inserted

and laughed over the silliness
of our conversation and then

i drew the tidy face and then

the scaffolders came

the power house rears its head again,
pouring images down
like rain.

things will do for now
until it changes again

slightly

while in the studio a series
commenced

marching in time
across the board

at dusk the view magnetic

some places we have only passed through
and if the history were told we may understand it different

than reality

these slower times I find more exploration yet only of the now with patches of this and that

decline

to say no, or even to fail softly with a sloping line

tapering off into dots repeated

the fall is abrupt and possibly dramatic

serendipidy

all is honesty

i have a witness.

evidence produced.

there a little cloud with teardrops

a wash of shadowed grey

( notes on darkness) more fairy lights is all that is needed, radio music, and padding about really….

some things fade with time,
with sun and washings.

this one remained bright,
even glaring

we look for sand

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

the sea that is rising

adrift, will the sky at last explode, or will this hate

continue pointlessly, for thousand thousands years.

numbers that cannot describe each particle of pain.

each ****** bomb that kills yet again.

stains the cup if left standing,

remember the hotel, 1964,

we used to scour them especially

round the handle, then the base.

yes

so I won the challenge yesterday
and have set a new one
will judge it on may 4th

not saying much of intelligence
really

the weather is beautiful here
all sunshine and bird song

so I guess they will come
and turn places into car parks
again

even though buses are provided

i did not want to win though

no major side effects except dreams of side effects

do not feel so great, again today.

i wanted to be european.

a bigger picture.

we do so many things.

we are no longer afraid.

make the best of summer days,

winter follows.

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

the sea that is rising

there is this little corner

tidy now

a niche

which needs a thing to make a point

for it


the storm came yesterday and tired from the work before

browsed the online and found many things

yet know that with time it will sort itself out


just as most places are tidy

the tree came down

and

next door’s shed blew about


it feels quieter this morning

in white

a mirrored door

all tidy in lockdown

and though it was bought expensive

placed inside it is lost to me now

so use one of the others in the morning

and throughout the day

felt something amiss as we banged into fatigue and slept one hundred years

crusty lipped we search for blistex

then

traditionally use the vaseline

should that dot be approved

and how about the predicted?

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

it was another lockdown

with discussions on milk

that seemed important

then we heard voices distant, watched with a comma, saw the group walking the lane early

red tops and shorts

six thirty a.m.

so the falling days,
end today, winter waits,
and the songs, and words,
tunes are all to warm us,
and hold us safe

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


the sea that is rising

the medicine works

though leaves the passages

dry

triggers sets me thinking of cowboys

we don’t have those here either

there seems to be a satisfying nature
in sawing and chopping wood

providing warmth and safety

for oneself
for family

i like sawing a lot

the action
watching the dust fall

laughing as it cuts through

a piece falls to the ground
to be gathered later

for whatever task is intended

we have a metal incinerator in the garden
as you know and only burned garden stuff

not used so much now the recycling centre

is back open
with organisation and printed labels

so very pleasing for some
a chore for others

they recycle most things
except the plastic bags

they go elsewhere

we have orange juice sometimes
instead of elderflower

all things refreshing

that feeling that arrives with the name of the county

the memory of your home and closeted life
now eroding slowly

that sense of belonging to the land

it is that feeling

have a photo here of up the valley
where they used to stook the harvest


all the family out working the fields

in the evening it came cooler
for rest

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

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.

most of it works now,
memory plays a part,
when we look
to the mountain.

feels as if. the thing i was doing

has overtaken me.   wealth  has no

agenda,                nor have  capitals.

rules come away. a differing

place,  turning in the year.

it came gently.

was mentioned that people turn it back to themselves

tried it and found it so

that or not showing care
for the deep ness of it all

maybe i shall not go to dunster again

after all

and shall miss it

&

more

will miss you…..

.note. i never did pronounce dulverton as dulverton…

dry he wore the white dress

his hair curled damply

we drew him

we painted him

he is taller now & remains

much the same

it was
the dream

the cloud
the quarry

water flows down this valley

wind blows round our houses

it came shiny
lovely at 45 degree angle

oh no
he said
this is the wrong one

:: you know ::


five men


those men who desire

who speak in three voices


is all i will say here, you know who you are

*

time is upon us as he writes

the old way


dust from the fire

he weaves

remembering the beginning

of it all


ash escapes his brain

into solitude


days left

three voices

rise until just one

is heard

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.

satisfactory arrangement
on the surface

as we know there is much below

snakes figure a bit here since
i saw that one in the
famous old painting with a egg
in its mouth

painted my mug in happy yellow
drawn by the name not just the colour

and oh that name come true
on opening

jim

liked in potatoes called spuds

& maybe there was one

covering us

that wore away over years…

well never mind

they say and go get on with it

meanwhile I thought of you back then all those years ago

underlined

did i sit quietly thinking
then place a few
things together?

yes

told them about joan and they said they had to go, get home
later I heard they liked her despite the startled look
she was drawn again yesterday

those days we went each year
watched them drive through the
village first

oh the excitement
waving

only they did not come last year
of course and i guess they will

not again this year

i would not mix with a crowd now

would you james?

when I was a kid the elephants
came by train and there was a
procession from the station
through town with performers

all waving

i was scared of the lions and other
creatures

not the elephants nor the clowns
james

i loved them both
and still do

1°
overcast

the challenge is rain

and we had some

had looked at the writing and chose a small one though i do like the long one

about wet days on the hill…

skimmed slates that bounced about

unlike the pebbles that grow on our banks here

unlike the landscape hereabouts yet only up the road

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

yes i am inclined to agree; it will be an uphill journey
for us both.
to learn, to grow