mine was a little dog.
jack russell.
minnie.
gone now a while…..
i miss her
eyes
the sound of her sleeping.
paws on slate floors.
sbm.
Monthly Archives: September 2017
not for sale
.structure.
the visit
homage
security
bless thee and paste the words.
literally.
oxblood does not offend me, unlike
your rantings, protestations.; words continue.
sweat
beads.
bless thee, pray your maggots
leave.
while we pick out the remains.
days continue with blessings
while the thoughts that this is not personal
are failing.
so i will continue to raise tickets on your befalf
&
bless thee.
sbm.
on the other side,talking to james
My thanks to James Stephen for his input on this work. A Poetry Circle conversation..poetry circle.
on the other side
of the path
one yellow flower
**
early, the crowd came to see the famous arch . laburnum. i came to see the kitchen garden, seeds growing
**
old words
for things once common
when the things disappeared
the words went with them
**
some words remain remembered;
scullery, coal scuttle, hod,
broom.
that is yellow.
**
have a vacuum for
most things
broom is for incidentals,
crevices, or when I’m lazy
’bout getting vacuum out
broom is red
with matching dustpan
**
i have a vacuum
there is nothing there.
the broom is for
the garden
mainly
or elsewhere for smelling like coconut
**
sweep your garden ?
**
slate bits
came from gloddfa ganol….quarry in blaenau.
front yard. leaves fall.
**
leaves here falling too
a tree here a tree there
so far
soon it will be
all of them together
a collective shed
next 6 months
nothing but bare branches
**
these are the falling days.
ooz
did you say whose?
we had hoped to live there, osea.
mud ooz at low tide, fall flat &
wallow.
suck out slowly.
they sold the place to those who sold the place to those.
then those sold it too, to them, who passed it on to those.
we could not live there then.
we live here.
osea. where.
we reared the fire, wild ones flying, walked the shallows, marked
tides.
yet
live here now
instead,
sbm.
