she asked about side effects and though
after reading the instructions felt there

were none
noted before

when suddenly came the surge of energy

mention plagiarism

&

after research find it is

spelled so

to tell you it was just a friend
who did it often one way then

another

then they blocked me
nicely

permanently

so it goes

in a few words

james

doubly,
font and image.
to twice the normal extent
or degree.

things happen, we deal,
cards are set, dice thrown.

life moves on.

busy day
much achieved
yet
no one will
notice

but me

and i will check it all

tomorrow
and beautify


18.32

there was a gentle breeze going, then
the sun came through.

:: nothing ::

dissecting the thing

into pieces

and chucking it into the canal

it is nothing

no more

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

may be as well if two buckets are bought

at the same time

not to keep them

one

inside

the other

for  length of times..

saw them on the way to montgomery by bus

& finding them cheaper than elsewhere  bought them on the way home

popped them in the shed  where they melded together well

heat and sheer determination eventually prised them apart

two buckets

have been off work for ten months
so work at home

a lot

on this and that

and the garden

at the front

a smaller one at the back

both were wet yesterday and slidy with mud
my walking making it worse

when I was out to make it look better

i intend to have an easy day
the day after boxing day

there is good reason

that inspires

not the modern kind

more the flavour of another time

another rhyme

understand the difficulties

understand the fear


it needs to have activity

it needs to have depth


yet there is no need for admiration

no need for folk to like it

and we worry when they do

spread out as cotton threads

knotted

&

i will not mention the word

water falls,
stains enamel.

some notice, yet
do not judge.

he may have
been
aquarius, yet
he is not

all became a thing yesterday
regarding these marks of ours

and we finished
on this

i hope you do not mind

is it all a dream, or facts
in reality, made of mind.


all stone residue haunting.
our life. will we very know
forever wandering?

old story remembered  from the beach
that warm afternoon while all were playing
relaxing
the hunted tried not to sleep
there
for fear of being robbed or found

perseverance came lovely even the last seven minutes

beautiful like ballet landing softly

became slightly nervous looking up
at it
retreated to the studio

they say

they

do they not know the darkness,

how the light can fade into latin,

and all things reasonable

means more if you sit quietly
in the light

oil pond mirrors the darkness the november

day                  sun draws white against the grey

this       leaf  lays on earth

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.

.normal.

is what you are told

it is

until

you realise

it is

not

paper covers history.

bent on layers

of time, pretending.

you said goodbye
said it had ended
here

to go there
or email you

i agreed as it was time for a change

time for a change of subject
of pattern

i did not agree to continue


he said that was the issue with the
work

it keeps changing

as things do tend to

sometimes there are too many words
and little truth

things come clear with time

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.

turn & there

before you, before you

the flags have found you.

during the evening after tea,

we wondered who had invented the chair

drawing the child with found fabrics
watching the marks come good, no dots
intended
yet they came
without warning

the roads here are winding, the leaves are changing.
best not to bang the teapot down on serving, best
to tell the truth.

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

some thing is changing here,

so slight it can hardly be

noticed.

yet it has been.  a feeling,

came after light rain .

we continue with new white paint
and orange too

bought on my first solo day out by bus
this year

remembering not to touch anything.

look at the weathered walls
hear the song come random

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

if I had been a boy
would I have looked like him

worn corduroy?

if you had been a boy
would you have looked like him

and we wonder
at the likeness

there.

we are survived.

light came, we saw the green ness of it all.                          we live in the country.

intended on a sandwich maybe from the convenience store with the metal cafe seating outside

had noticed the chip shop and remembered that those and fish shops would be closed on mondays as no fishing on sundays then

now we are overfishing, killing those that live at sea

then see

it was open

chose small chips with salt and vinegar to taste while he enquired if i was on holiday

brightened up when i mentioned the bus from dolgellau

i had cash for him as required hidden from myself in the unaccustomed bag

sat carefully on a town bench and ate all the tiny crunchy bits and crumbs of fried batter from the edge indispersed with fatter juicy ones which sagged and dripped goo nicely

fortunately found a fairly clean cotton handkerchief in my jacket pocket for wiping face and fingers

could not eat them all

despite the small

portion and wrapped back up for later

my jacket is green with three quarter sleeves and have had it a while now

it was after that i found the marked robber’s grave in the church yard

an old story remembered
that warm afternoon while all were playing

relaxing.

the hunted tried not to sleep

there

island monkeys could not

go abroad

no boat

no plane no nothing

sadly they read books on other countries

with adventures, himalayas & ranuph fiennes

think i heard a night jar

up the valley here.

it was a quiet night except

for that.

we have the window open now.

black crow bird

pecks poet’s lip.


cold sore

she said she liked the stories

except I did not tell them
i never tell you much
nor all of it

there are bits left to fill in
yourselves

i too fly solo
&
enjoy the flight

when the day clears
i look up at the others

Moving forward always there come other notations that bring  feelings, the Agnes Dei opens wounds and fears flood with salt.

storm came yesterday dark and loud  the landscape veiled

awash a while.

black things fade and all is grey.

win or lose hedge your edge

write of parlay.

dark small cloud dropped rain.
still, the small birds sing

the tree came down in two parts with great noise and  excitement  yet only from me


i guess the guys are dead cool and used to it all


an early sapling showed, once overshadowed

a new view , quite acceptable


a noisy  day so I went and drew pictures

becomes larger as time moves on.

it started early, with greek poetry,

the radio, which played all day.

the air moves
on my skin.

i turn
look past the curtain

see the face again

framed.

courage to walk away
from objects that irritate
our eyes, to eat another way,

with snakes and camphor oil.

you know what i mean