Category Archives: uncategorized

.give things.

. give things .

to some one else,
will they fall upon flesh,
rip it, rearrange,
leave to sleep?
maybe it were their rags.

handle with care,
small eggs hold with love,
rearrange tenderly, add cake.

we saw hedd wyn, yesterday.

sbm.

Picture
Hedd Wyn
Poet
Hedd Wyn was a Welsh language poet who was killed during the Battle of Passchendaele in World War I. He was posthumously awarded the bard’s chair at the 1917 National Eisteddfod. Wikipedia
Born: January 13, 1887, Trawsfynydd
Died: July 31, 1917

.something told her.

someone

i should not have gone

we had to call her auntie
no blood relation

we sat with her for tea
cross legged.

i shared a room with Catherine, (it may have been K I forget) so long ago

we were at the top of the house off the landing before the staff quarters – the
uncles,the aunties

Cath was older, brave and treacherous

i liked her yet felt the others didn’t

a bad influence

we went out on the chain ferry across to the beach
all sun sea gulls and possibilities

day of freedom

on return that auntie shouted i should not have gone, screamed and shouted from the stairs shouted

spoiled our lovely day

Cath left the home soon after, they found her a flat

i missed her
i visited her

it continued with escapes in the bathroom
the door locked

wished i went with Catherine

i think of you often

milton road

lines & differentiation

when the fog clears we creep back into the garden

watch birds eat wettened crumbs. softly leaves fall

each year mist falls an anniversary physically fed

on sleep we meet

.

&

you are gone & you are gone

again

no parallel lines

.cocky.

is gone.

old

ancient

he died

buried

his house

is now

the log shed

tidy stacked

good

he did not prance about

stood on one leg

lonely

the hens had gone

a long time

we all miss cocky.

there is no photograph.

sbm.

.storms have names.

1.

storms are predicted

slowly the sign starts moving

we head toward home trees

are down. power gone

dark yet the bones

are showing

the door is open

rattling

2.

we ring the police the line is dead

buttons gone spongy

reduced to mathematics and tying the thing in knots

no dialogue they are out everywhere

trees are down

bones are showing

here

3.

police arrive tree men to mend and repair

on overtime

for

mass calculation

crowd in the house for tea

find there are no pastries offered.

there is nothing in the house.

bones are apparent.

sbm.

.hollow.

words recede.

our upbringing denounces us.

i stand in the garden, a glimpse

of the bat out late. early here.

now i am hollow.

he said that swimming can be dull,

i prefer calm.

we hide from nothing in particular,

distance becomes us.

near cuckoo woods,

the hollow i sat as a child.

empty dry ditches.

sbm.

fifty words

fifty words!

as many as that;

not as many as last night you know.

brainstorming with abandon

and counting symbols.

crossings out and wiring my brain is a task

for which i am not fit without a drink.

a sort of drink cannot say or i will fail.

sbm

challenge:~ 50 words. no ‘e’

norway square

you said nothing is ever perfect, and

i remember this and why.

reciting, shouting, jumping on walls

laughing.

you sent a book, along

with the money due.

st.ives.

sbm.