Monthly Archives: May 2018

.they think so.

yet some have a differing

view

some are away all week

the peal of bells stop

leaving the air empty

lean on the wall/watch the cattle

note the shape/remember the

hissing

lately

.reynard.

i guess he thought that

no one

would see him cross

a newly ploughed field

just past the lime kiln

red earth, red fur repeated

the shadow came darker

some one left a marker

on the fence

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.hill of loss.

unpredictable name

lean on the fence to look

over

a steep drop to the river

tears well as we speak of it openly

to break the cut a pheasant came comely

all collars & spectacles

walked sedately to the edge while

i imagined it may fall or fly

over

he continued head forward

feet unhinged to walk down

that cliff

properly slowly with dignity

astounded i turned

went back to work the worst

of the tremors over

it was such a shocking statement to hear

a hill of loss

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.bold.

mrs ciano never had hair
we do not mention it to
her

she has a sensitive soul
multiple personalities

go google
mrs ciano

.mrs ciano’s blog.

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.across the lane today.

he is splitting logs & sawing

in the sun

they will go at the back where the wind

blows round

kenny says they take years to dry

he knows his stuff

i broke the mower & have two

strimmers that work

cut the paths

tenderly leaving the flowers to grow

we try not to go out here bank holiday

week ends

so a rest indoors now

with

ARTURO MARQUEZ – DANZÓN Nº 2; GUSTAVO DUDAMEL
in blue writing

as if

it is important

you see

sbm.

.friday in the village.

over the lane

i watched him varnish his duck

while

previously he had fired up a chain saw

ready

we imagined he will cut the legs off the

taller one

two ducks in a row

were gathering dust at the bottom of the

stairs

will now decorate the garden

we discussed the date and laughed about

star wars

together

the others came up the rise and spoke yet

they do not know me

sbm.

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.is it blood?

we opened the door, closed a while and found the old nails

ancient rusty loved them kept them for the ages

who else will like rusty nails?

well

he did those huge hand made ones from the garden

it has been a long time coming

it lasted many years now is gone

all of it

all the straight ideals and weathered work.

who will come laughing now who else loves rusted nails & reddened eyes?

plans change

partially due to the weather

state of the roads

is that blood on the towel dear

or is it rust?

shot_1410859959822[1]

.another way.

they may like us to dance

twice

louder, a chance

to

face up

to smile

we have always danced

it is a family

trait

look sideways

think lateral

forget the emerald

and dance

looking the other way

mainly

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assemblage & photograph – sonja benskin mesher

.falling.

it started that day at brondanw

i saw you fallen

&

photographed you

took you to be stitched

yet could not save you

nor

any of them

you are a metaphor for death

the word fallen is used

when they were pushed

while those at home made bandages