Monthly Archives: April 2020

.summer flowers.

yes and hope it will be honesty
a good flower then many seeds

for another year

we have thundering rain
i can hear it

i see the buses are all diverted
to avoid dyfi bridge which is
closed for flooding

there is a real pretty footbridge
just along and they say the back
road is a lovely path to walk

travel and work here are now
commanded by the weather

what have we done , oh really

we cry out when some one dies
as we should
i have tears for the creatures we
harm who die

i missed the pheasant on the
road last evening
it ran in front the oncoming
who avoided it too

yes really
walked off nonchalantly
avoiding the extra letter
which i have deleted

.winter storms.

spring will come
and we shall have
more flowers

i can see the first
leaves pushing through


and the primroses are
to spite
the storms

we shall have more drawings
i can see the marks & lines
pushing through

despite the weather
to spite
the storms

am back to mill
the winter rest is over

we shall have customers
who worry about the storms


.the reply.

this is the first quick reply

for time is short at present

there is much to be done

then later when there is a space

will reply again

a double thing


for i am home again

like one day out

then one day here

and is working well

so far

though yesterday

changed tempo

slowly with a slide


so going with the flow

i went with the flow

that benefited

ann has a mouse

she leaves out crumbs


ants come in the kitchen usually in february
leave at easter. it has not happened this year

they scurry

yesterday i looked out and thought how nice
i have always wanted to live near water.

there were floods as far as i could see, my
neighbour said we could have a boat.

wind skittered across the surface like it
did when he died

despite this beauty i feel for those damaged
with water this year

i live on the rise and look out across

some one wrote to enquire and we
agreed it seems this is all our own fault

i had cherries yesterday
real nice

i like ants


.the politician.

memory is thought to be gone,
remnants remain, hiding.
working faster with out all

those words,
those images


bare bones of the fact replaced,
restarted, corrupted items place gently
in the box, tied.
turn with dust.



i find that writing here

to you on tug hill is an

impetous if that is the

appropriate word for

the written work and

maybe drawings will

come later

i will look at images

of hemlock with that


in mind

we use or did use

fir cones to start

the fire

we went with mum

up meyrick park to

the woods to collect

them, to see the trains

that slowed down there

before the central station

one of my brothers fell

in a big ants nest, they were

made of pine needles

clever is ants

nice day yesterday at the

secondary studio a hub

of folk, had two visitors

for me and done six drawings


ants is clever

and small

.power, oh really.




blinded those that could not see

the love and idle artefacts, each one

a statement of nothing in particular.

phased those that drove the power

in site of home, that stopped, saw


water that seeps insidiously into mind

spoils all things

things that can be mended.

he said that most people throw broken plates away

thank you. well really

oh really


.remember the day.

the dog barked mournfully


was it my imagination


it was just barking usually

as maybe it had no concept

of what mournful is

they say i have that ability

it comes at night he said

the bleakness, so i gave

him a little lamp, a night


later a small mirror of

the same design as i

do not like to think of folk

feeling so

in the dark

the dog barked in the distance

from pentre farm up the road

i walk up slowly and see that

it lives in the little enclosure

above the stream

it hears me and jumps about

yapping, looks happy so

i wonder why i ever pronounced

it mournful

i watch and remember the day

the farmer brought the cow down

from there with the calf and walked

them up the lane

to the next field

some times at home i think i hear

that cow low mournfully

if i stay quiet i can hear a lot of things

imagine a lot of things



did you spot the comma error
or were you busy yesterday with
work and snow?

our storm is passed, the house
stopped creaking, the curtains

a while

we are making changes, only
yet each thing makes a difference

as you know

did my voice startle you as it does
me sometimes

the garden debris is cleared so

when it is warmer and now the
rubbish bags are empty i shall

i bought some yellow allium


i like it when you talk of flowers
at the edge

.the visit.

there is no one about down the back road

just two squirrels.

i wander up the slope to the studio

to see if she is in.


she had issued one invitation only. a quaint
old fashioned idea, that we may be friends

please come ,take a drink, talk with me

maybe walk with me

let us get to know each other gently

do not over stay the welcome 50 minutes will suffice

breaking cups spilling tea will abuse the hospitality

please come. i have the kettle on. this is not the time

for hostility


she knows this is a corpse road, an old deathway

bridle path up to the church

where the monks walked from the abbey where

dead were brought for burial, pagan before the now

where candles burned

an old place she thought


background noises interrupt the walking tread

she turns to look back at the outline of trees

the scene beyond

hengwrt. smoke rising

smells of warm wax

by the door

she catches her reflection in the glass

wonders who it is. lost in mind

forgets that she exists

a sense of unreality

the door slightly open

she pushes it and waits

does not call out or knock

it does not some as natural


her host is not at home yet

she looks about

blinks noting all the objects

are hers

she is the visitor, she is the host

she is two

become one again

inside outside in


she thought

there was no one about down the back road

just two squirrels.

my sister