Monthly Archives: September 2014

. chaos .

one slip is all.

one step too far, the
world turns around .

no control, no eating,

disorder abounds. watch
the ornaments fly, we feel
like alice. one minute turned
to weeks, and wish we had
our camera to film the scene.

these are indeed the falling days.

i am not broken, maybe cracked.
if you read me, you knew
that anyway.

sbm.

llawn 3

the dress

if the dress is ripped it can be mended,

if it is shredded it can be lined

with net for strength and longevity.

dirty, will wash it, iron and air it,

loosely bind into keeping,

a collection, memory

of those halycon daze.

will buy a suitable hanger.

©sbm

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estuary

and cross one side to another,
harbour to the beach.

no city here, this is
the country.

sea tide
pools up by the bridge..

mawddach.

sbm.

IMAG0157

cupboard

is little. painted bad,
so i bought it ,
£4.

it has become an installation
with eggs, which was at home,
in the outbuilding, where i
keep the idle atrefacts.

after bottling stuff with blood,
bones, i packed it nicely with
tissue, to send to the academy
for exhibition.

i must take better
photographs.

sbm.

cupboard

llandanwg

slight rain, you could say
drizzle, soft. a gentle day.

opening new ground. sand
underfoot reminds of
younger days. toast
also a comfort in
an age of other things.

pattern of tiny souls,
searching just for crumbs,
patterning a place to lodge
in life.

slight rain brought out
the coloured coats,
talk of tides and fortitudes.

opening new ground.

the church was closed.

sbm.

2013-04-15-18-36-16

. red .

lay the boards,
balance those you can.

softly the music plays.

there are no rules,
conquer space,
those idle artefacts

mostly red,
borrow
or buy cheaply.

it does not cost much,
to be friends, to dance,
create an atmosphere.

some things are red.

sbm.

2014-09-13-17-58-28[1]

mrs ciano

has mostly left the building.

one imagines packed
in sellophane, other
sundry packings, boxed
for transporation, waiting

a collection. alongside
the robes, trollies, and

coffee making services.

she is a small thing,

accompanied by other things.

sbm.
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the singular mrs ciano

i have been anxious for her,
add one small boy, out
on their own. big houses
make good companions,

yet, when all are gone,
only notes remain, who
will talk to mrs ciano.

understand the anxieties.

it has been said ,

” the mind of mrs. ciano cannot be packed away,”

truth in paralells runs this way.

she does not have a label.

sbm.

(quote, note* Andrew Bellon )

shot_1406812479956[1]

. monday with mrs ciano

only imagine the place
closed. it is colder this morning.

mrs ciano to be removed, one
part back to the museum, the

other packed and ready to go,
back, whence. she came from
an imagination, all bloodied
bandages, hymned words.

in two parts, splinter time.

google her remains.

the curator moves
on.

mrs ciano.

sbm.

shot_1406812577280[1]

cardboard

will not do, really,
it may have to be wood,
from ikea
after all.

he made do with cardboard
boxes, sticky tape
for sound,
another room.

i have news of mrs ciano,
looking well, in the old hotel.

i cannot get there
to see her.

history.

sbm.

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