it is a tiny place, look
in side and see.
go, position yourself
dumb down, retreat,
affect us deeply.
voices will come
and go. and
while the worlds spins,
this small world
gently steams. he
works the issue over.
*takes a card and hides it.
solitary man, solitary man.
kettles, cups of tea immersion.
* takes a card and looks at it.
daily walks to watch a train.
* takes a photograph and keeps it.
drawing slowly, carefully, a minute line,
not as in hours, as in tiny, little marks
which mean EVERYTHING and nothing.
that is nil, please do not misunderstand,
yet how can you when i keep dropping
when everyone is so different from each
other. so we must care and respect some
rules, forget the others. it may be the
of the lines.
that supports us.
so the saving failed, thats
probably that i had nothing to say.
oh yes i can talk loads, chatter, you
ask anyone. most of the time we are quiet.
there is the radio and the birds outside.
how clever you are that you can write about
anything. someties i cannot.
we hope it will come like spring, quietly
one thing then another, as all regular days really.
graphs will show it, we can draw , we may discuss.
if we wish, walk the graden
play with spelling with punctuation.
this is no disaster, word survival deleted.
moved the line into a place of hedges, rural contemplation.
they say it begins at home, that depends on belief.
we eat off broken plates.
you know that thing, that talking out loud,
when of course it is thinking. you know
that. saying one thing, when meaning another.
you know that thing when all you are doing is
in particular, they say it is something.
you know that thing on breaking rules,
when you broke mine.
that thing, when there is misunderstanding.
that being polite thing.
once again we come back to ourselves, our life ,
the reality of things, we stumble through
while all around is trembling , we weave together
with dreams and possibilies.
there is not much more to add, it is lighter
now. birds sing early.
once again we come back to ourselves.
i woke the bear.
‘ i am inordinately tired now, and you have been away all night. that is not an accusation ,it is an observation.’
yes. is there anything i can do?
‘yes, let me sleep a long time. i wish to be private a while.
yes. yet this is not the season for hibernation.
‘no, i do not follow the rules, nor crowds, my way is different. i shall still talk to you
in your head, so you will not miss me’
thank you, i know.
the sun came out.
‘though i do not think there is one’ says the bear. the bear is taking up a lot of room today.
‘tell me about the earth please?’
look it has layers, bone and blood, yet there are seeds for growth. some fear endearment,
while others do not.
‘why the blood’
old wounds, yet there is more in some places. i have seen the hill of the dying,
it is over the mountain.
‘how sad, may i go see, please?‘
yes bear, now shall we talk of puffy clouds and small faces?
we have been discussing his mother recently.
at a request from another.
‘who is my mother’. the bear whispered.
i do not know.
you came as an adult, a wise one.
you never said.
‘then i will never know?’
no, probably not, yet
i love you.
whispered the bear, then went very quiet.