yes

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

carefully we drew her out
all tidy with reason, wearing
us down

was
the dream

the cloud
the quarry

water flows down this valley

wind blows round our houses

mainly red,

comes a differing hue

with duck egg blue,

the ironmongers in town

at one seventy nine

nice little house.

who knows what goes on there.

we look for sand

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

the sea that is rising

though notice we don’t
discuss that so much

i could and
tell you of the plans and preparation
the ordering and menus here

but i don’t do i?

like flags that are decorative
or bunting that represents a
happy time

dislike borders
representations of separation

talk goes on all day, about the heat,
the rain and drizzle,
no thoughts on the shipping
forecast. words red, remembered.

the bird, the boy, the machine,
there is only air between.

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

two clouds.


brown paper
packaging…

slower morning here today. the radio plays.
dove grey overcast sky. heavy they say.
maybe rain?

we shall never know
for there is no microscope
here
moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail

like gradually the markers came
maybe someone someday will
see them
suddenly

another visit here
how pleasant

we don’t have many now
during pandemic and

darker wetter days

went out yesterday
to port

looked out the cafe window
like a hopper painting

with wet leaves
and

bread and butter pudding

oh unsuitable paint you
covered lovely with no
comments as all are at
home

as advised

darkness descends

with out the need for words. pray for

forgiveness if you are so inclined.

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

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

on imagining things
sometimes scare myself silly

fine line we walk,
gently avoiding peptides,only just a theory,

yet used independently,
alongside honest work,
for mending.

we will not have blankets,

if there are none, take the old

rags, layer , stitch and stitch

by hand till fingers bleed.


work along the coast

with thread and diligence.


gather wools, layer carefully,

we shall have warmth this winter.


we will have quilts to share.

you see it reminds
me of the visit to
that house by the mill
where there is a box
to stand on to be able
to see the mountain
behind

i write in notes to double space



as i can’t figure it out elsewhere

i feel that

the pattern is as important as

the words

then copy and paste it across

and see how that works today



will report back later
after looking for james


thankyou

minimal
on the same paper
as before
i understand

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

..today..

alongside gestures of despair,

may communicate thought

better. or worse?


so lets  be singular

enjoy our own space,

and be friends, forever.


she says that you

cannot see some people’s souls,

perhaps we need to look harder.


there is a lot going on.

has beautiful spots james
while i like any pattern that includes spots
and any embellishment that is bows you
know
yet
i don’t know why
only as i say that
i think i may do
i guess that is a story for another morning
james

they  do not know the darkness

how the light can fade into latin

& all things unreasonable

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

on imagining things
sometimes scare myself silly

broke

shattered

broken reflections

of a former life

smashed

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.

life goes on
the mark remains

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

i was gone all day, and my feet hurt.

i folded tee shirts, was confused with socks,

tried to be good, got it all wrong.



what did you do, bear.



‘i stayed here all day, i don’t want the money’

kept in a box, precious.

lifted down for those to see,
that care.

did the understanding come,
the idea that all old things
are wanted, needed for their story.

not discarded on higher ground,
where dust and moth abound.

the lesser garment became prefered,
as the last shall become the first.

we shall look at the photographs.

yet when

she said my friend looked pretty

&

that I smelled nice

I sagged a little.

later that day

i found a message

request

from a soldier in the usa

holding a puppy & a rose

calling me a beauty

the voices rather quiet. we have had a lifetime
of listening, yet not understanding, really.


let us go forth and compare

to think sideways,
practice makes a hindrance
when others think straight.

listen, repeat the
random insects.

stitch another way.

yet i will rather say that all things are
on a spectrum
of colours & ideas

nothing is one colour only,      as decided
in invented rules.  for we are all different

pause like in breathing

I hope you don’t mind
and that is how it started

things will do for now
until it changes again
slightly

she said, the time is right
funny how things work out.

the discussion was on the crucifixion,
how things get lifted, to cook
a cabinet pudding. it may have been
early, yet you see, the swallows are back.

the buttercups are out.

what do we know of apartment

blocks with balconies

no where to play

sit quietly with the monkey

or whatever toy to sustain

and magnify

what do we know of merging paint

that frequents our mind

to describe

there was a gap in the railings where things fell through

we sat and watched it all

pink.

research is kind, we have tried many colours.

we ate the cake, yet not wishing to appear
greedy left a crumb.

for a bird.

Keith.

Thankyou for popping by again. Good to see you here.

Yes the noise goes on all day when they strim. There are three graveyards here and there are usually two working together.

They start in the lower, town council. Then the middle, village council, then the churchyard.

I am sad to say **** killer is employed for the edges as if there is not enough death already Keith.

yes i did.



each spring

before easter came

she bought me a new cotton dress in m&s.



st margaret.



a bigger size

taken up, tucked in with

room for growth.



the next year it was second best for school

taken down , let out

and fading in the summer holidays.



the jackets were my brothers.

did not wish to go to sea
went just the few times

that I remembered
last evening

the crossing

partially due to the weather,

state of the roads.



these are not just closed

due to snow, some

as cars slide, cause a commotion.



it is a steep hill, the crimea,

some call it a mountain



steeped in history.



plans change, while

the bus windows remain *****.

find pieces of jigsaw
everywhere here,
and they
don’t fit
together.

if i try
they make
the wrong picture

google when back at home, read about
people, and know we may after all
be twins.