why will i want to or think of it
at all. in lower case.
aren’t we all complementary,
designed with different features
and ramblings, not pausing for
breath.
we live in the country ; know that
all are different, enjoy a good time
overall.
pause.
aren’t we all in this together, a
question with gritted teeth
eventualities and commas.
do not worry over things. said this
before.
all together.
the difference could make no difference.
classified.
making the work about making the work.
knowing the cylinders are empty, you
had asked if i have heard of instagram. a relic of
how we judge by appearance. i told you that
i had an old box brownie, a clue to confuse.
it is good to talk about work that is about making
the work.
they like my badge. at mostyn.
sbm..
i have not written much about advent, just two things.
yet i know it is here, felt in bones; my soul. i
have no system now to believe things, yet
the reminder comes without warning. each
year.
this year
to my own suprise, i find that i still can cry. it
is a long time passed. they say our work , our souls
are in our chest.
it is not just me
it is family.
there is no photograph.
sbm.
to explain to you who cannot see,
the cloy, the quantity of water, tasks, and other
hurts, that fit into a day. the moment
your feet slide into mud, with one word.
heard , read, imagined, the sentence dives and plays
whole, yet as days move on, flotation occurs,
buoys, slowly we face back to sea , swim on.
either that or drown.
sbm.
