to go

despite not going solo

despite all the reasons that you

spoke of

to plan an escape by bus for aviemore perhaps

by rail for inverness

the memory of you

..talk, talk to me with snaked tongues,

all seaside towns and deck shoes, reminding

of the lecture house.

.they turned it nasty too.

..when the tongue splits, spit and go.

go fast.

the bear is quietly political

drinks tea

does not answer the phone

our work
our soul
is in
our chest

some of us manage
to be vulnerable as naked
in private

some need holding up
in sight from my window

so,
must we write about it before we forget,
before  people come and disagree?

they have small waists and a  national costume

my goodness
such a thing to see while out
and about

such a high up place to be

slipped sideways.

while all remains the same, something is different.

the idea left us dancing.
use what is already there,
make do and mend

has beautiful spots james
while i like any pattern that includes spots
and any embellishment that is nice you
know

wind blows ideas into our houses

messages bring connections

a busy day with folk talking

it was the weekend with time
to spare

thankyou
for your offered help
and saying you care for my welfare
all very much appreciated
i thankyou and say it is only temporary

some photos show nothing
while paintings can come
more personal

a simple thing,
to think sideways,
practice makes a hindrance
when others think straight.

no mention of gains or fortitude
some may look for the other one
some may find it

while the little people with their arms held high
dance in the sunlight with all that remains

you notice small things too
and record them slightly

those touches, nuances
do you see the way they
glance, look aside…

we miss you if you do not visit
a while
and we get all our tenses and lines
wrong and have to go back in a hurry
to amend

a curious thread that
holds us together
while apart

some of us most of us
tucked inside
becoming whiter
chattering
small white teeth

sometimes
a while in a box
will do nicely…

was noted that some folk aren’t bothered and carry on without looking
the difference is a thing

the mothth as collage.
a quiet ththing.

paper covers history.

bent on layers
of time, pretending.

has beautiful spots james
while i like any pattern that includes spots
and any other embellishment like bows

you know

he asked me who will be afraid of our ghosts
ghosts of humans
when we are gone

481.

no bus arrived the timetable lady was contacted and she explained the bus was due at 2.30 pm that my internet were wrong and no one was bothered what it said at bus stops

undeniably tracing honesty in the air
with one finger
pointing

it came clear later..

the island blessed

sandy tracks to wander
in memory

like birds we flew

that feeling that arrives with the name of the county
the memory of your home and closeted life
now eroding slowly
that sense of belonging to the land
it is that feeling

is overcast today
a slight breeze from the
window
wide
a slight hint of colour
bleeding from the patch below

there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea
the sea that is rising

did not wish to go to sea
went just the few times

that I remembered
last evening

the crossing

it all a dream, or facts
in reality, made of mind.

all stone residue haunting.
our life. will we very know
forever wandering?

search hill

has been a long time coming, it lasted many years,
now is gone.

all of it, all the straight ideals and weathered work.

were the markers always there
left by some other
wanderer?

on paper
In the studio
that was so precise and quite particular

was dark blue with a little red added
lasted two weeks and still prominent

or is it the air changing?
mood settles, or is it the
time of year?

initially it was said
that secondly should be
second and initially
should be first

i was confused that
nobody said third
and comforted
by the sound of fourth
a
memory of moth

may understand the red thing

enjoyed the film with the colours
yellow and gorse along
the path
days on the sands
skipping up through the tracks seeing
the adder

sea fret  in by six.      today the sky has lifted early.

yet the days moved nicely. there were little troubles, nothing to diminish the beauty of it all.

you know
all neat and patterns with orange
usually

was worried over the empty barn. .it  survives,
some
way.

we are little things
that dance in the mornings
james
by the light of the phone….

large rocks
fenced off yet
maybe i will
creep through
and touch
one quiet day

one stone
one finger touch
a ritual

who knows what lies underneath
here the land goes up and down
water drains
into rivers

undeniably tracing honesty in the air
with one finger
pointing

it came clear later..

old story remembered
that warm afternoon while all were playing
relaxing.
the hunted tried not to sleep
there

grass
holds the sand.
sand holds
the grass.
have you walked the dunes
hollowed path, coconut gorse.
have you found contentment there?
have you sat the sun, black crow bird,
have you closed your eyes at that
within, enjoyed that
without?
the tin hut is still empty.

imagine you a pirate, with stripey trousers
and a large black patch.

on imagining things
sometimes scare myself silly