maybe this one day will do,
as in suffice.
maybe that is all we get.
picking up crumbs.
you said nothing is ever perfect, and
i remember this and why.
reciting, shouting, jumping on walls
you sent a book, along
with the money due.
i read Glyn Hughes, some times.
sometimes, i look at the photograph,
and wonder how it was that last year;
how you wrote to me, sent
me your book
with a private inscription.
it takes on a new meaning, horribly iconic.
my lidl carrier bag.
asked for a refund.
it did not fit.
touch it gently, it may not explode.
this time. tentacles wave. keep
clear or they may touch you. burn
talk carefully, they may shout to blame
it is not a word we use much here. we have to adhere to rules.
those made in mind. seems good to displace oneself a while. to work.
note the cattle, blur the sheep.
there is smoke rising.
there are things going on here.
it is the eighteenth.
i cannot raise this arm.
i can still raise the other one,
and lay properly. to sleep. do not
look for the white,
tiredness comes its own way.
later that evening we watched tv.
they were young & pretty then. moved
their hands about.
a type of dinosaur.
i knew nothing.
now it makes sense.
a complete diagnosis
a difficult subject, some might say thorny.
the lady with the blue umbrella
is merely a road sign, remember.
until we walk over and find there
is not one.
had difficulty sleeping, thinking.
of you all.
thinking of you all.
all who are ill,
i went on the bus, saw the mud
from the festival. talked to you
who got lost and fed the homeless.
read some road signs elsewhere.
those books, that music.
rises. zadok was a priest.
here again we have
your brother killed him.
some of us know why.