three steps

#212 - and here we are in their afterlife

1.8.20

212

and here we are in their afterlife

on the horse’s birthday

 

among the objects of voyage

live a kind of pyramid

ironies to burn

 

see them in a cloud of flour

under the weight of some art

a poem

 

we forget their voices

reading what they left

 

old ledger entries

still true as ink to dry

 

in chimney whim

first thingery

buggerit

 

remember the tipple though

pleasure will always look forward to us

 

so often we say ‘they would…’

meaning if they were here

when they’re not

 

it’s only time this trouble

 

shade cast over

and drag the cursor

 

here we are still

and again

an archive dive in life

 

like a line that haunts till written

I still have the last cigar

 

all goes to not mattering

never say never

 

the weirdness of the world’s my wonder

every blinking day  

    

#211 - two poems - first observations & into the gentling

31.7.20

211

two poems

 

 

first observations

 

the crackling of the fire

the rain

a roof’s sun stretch from nearly frost

the scratching in the wall again

a door

or other opening

 

that’s all the outside wanting in

 

bud broken to the day

leaf wrung from light

 

these mine to tell

each from the other

 

so many ways pretending

 

every word ever spoken connects with this breath

mine, yours, next, last

 

never however

 

every word ever written

chases smoke to the sky’s far slope

 

born everything perfect

now nothing to say

 

please understand where I am

 

into the gentling

for a medley of moods

 

a call to peace

 

where sunshine’s to fall

slung bows of the rain

 

by cliché come

toes cool in a summertide

and you take your cloud

hear other hearts

 

tender all bliss with this love

 

come creatures

whom we’ve never known

 

into the gentling

stroke at a time

 

yes one gives the beast a roar

and will it matter what?

 

block ears, steady

keep the round world still

 

stethoscope and pause

not well at all

 

swim through the suit grey static

what we need’s a conversation

 

forget the graph

get behind the curve

lie flat

maybe no one will see

 

we’ll have to wait this weather out

 

go to the place of lost voices

and never a harsh remark

get real

make a play for sincerity

 

tinkle up your hammered strings

like stairs into the mind

 

there are now days I won’t go to

 

a tickle where we disagree

and raspberry on top

 

the eye to eye is needed now

the all together song

 

a fire go round

into it and tunefully

strum so ever gentle

come

 

by dovelight

lice underwing

 

to stand under everything known and not

dizzy with

look up

and so see stars

#210 - have you noticed the little imperfections?

30.7.20

210

have you noticed the little imperfections?

your falling down house and its sky

skin and everything inside

sounds that come out as a sigh

have you noticed

flaw in the all-I-make

fabric torn

where stars tell through

is there invisible mending?

I treat the fly with this ointment

all these words are getting me wrong

luck and we rely

the laugh at whose expense

dry day clouds

and the garden drought

have you seen the part

with the missing puzzle?

shift from a season loved

then there are these gone of ours

how we grey on without

still can move the mouse

keep the floor flat

be home when they call

heart, soul, mind

whole wicked tribe

all die-hard habits

death at last

bent arrows cross the page

all my mucky baggage

too heavy for the shelf

time to tell where we have been

I don’t go up to be with God

this all adds up to self

#209 - into the blue (two fragments)

29.7.20

209

two fragments to (possibly) join into a poem

1

in a pale frame of day

light is the firstness

and hear a sky up

feathered with

nothing yet falls

it is a vanish

takes us with

just this wick of sunshine

waking …

up to old selves

of course

warm one with my welcome here

all open till to do

day was first home of all things bright

and though there’d been before

and would be

lean in and shadows so

make the picture

for some must see

the night run out

thrown to

someone through a clock

over this all –

what can they have been thinking?

2

into the blue

an up for all

it is a thing so lit

so much of luck

webs done in dust  

a feathered tilt and twist

then lack

hang wet washing there

a rapture to the climb beyond

up trunk by bark

limb out leaf gone

it may be so and all because

things forgotten now are shown

after of instance night

or lately falls

go to it

and fire far

opportunely now

some days it pales

or chart the hue

it’s not the colour of a tin sky catch

it isn’t a wisp of one’s guess

fringed as the now

with up until

not anyone

no voice in it, the blue

telling nothing there

eyes up

it isn’t some any whizz by but we do

although a stillness seems

once it was much misted

send up the bolts from

nuts and who was it

shot the arrow through?

a blinding, dizzy at

head back

ache’s yours

build heaven here

and dice it

was before us too

though once upon a different blue

or altogether something else

it’s a complete waste of time

pump it – cash up – smoke one

power up

bitter

it’s all to catch a breath

that’s why

let us not say the sacred word

nothing but imagine

yet have heard shouted

come coy demanding

worlds that were

wish back

as air is empty

full of riddles

things come out of this

where finally we go 

#208 - how many rooms to the heart?

28.7.20

208

how many rooms to the heart?

I will paint you

no stone unturned

but certain lines of fruitless enquiry

it has a kind of mansion mist  

to wonder where I’ve been

shouting room to room…

your shout

house taller than the wind it is

roof drips through

a trail is left

all random architecture

built on a lie like love

‘should the stove be on?’

a yodel

Chinese boxes, Russian dolls

room of the omiyage

how many rooms and where are you hiding?

we sardines and this our tin

keep moist and stretch the skin

most private where I take off your dress, unbra

elastic loose down

release the beast

a downstream drift

forest selves away

room of the treetops then

clouds come

days couldn’t be more naked

still tearing down to flesh

and after, driven from the rain

verandering, relieve myself

be taken in with view

great hearts

and brave

and faint as well

gravelly voice

and risk

going out

may not be back for some time

having dreamt us there

where once we met

(little chamber of horrors)

facts face me but I brush them off

I write it up

I rug the floor

of course so tangled too

thus lost

rats run

was with whiff we went

taste blood, follow

come to the poem in love

(a kind of garden indoors)

all our ever building houses

every inch in the heart

lean to

so

come to the poem in love

with time stood still

viola slow

the rhapsody of corridors

and often lightless

you could be anywhere

open a window – fresh air

have hearts in spades

then after diamonds

take to the club

trip stage

and bowl the breadrolls, Bertie

do deathbed scenes, give birth

family!  help!  get me out!

there must be some kind of way

a journey to the centre

and bottom of this sea

stumped

over the hills and far far better

one of us at least

consider care home

cave retreat

let things come out in the wash

each mood its room

came here to lose the battle

and lick my wound, won’t you?

that’s lovely

surrender

you climb on

it was a wish

rhetorical

demented wander of it was

boomerang too

it’s me – I’m back

sometimes too green

the meadow lies

but I translate myself

an inventory of words

eke

a store room where we keep the craft

so long forgotten

every other language is lovely

over the edge we

why even speak?

how many chambers?

who else is here?

will we echo after

could be quite a crowd

and counting

then I suspect myself of a crime

until the penny drops

an every instant

puzzle self

behind closed doors

all scheming

frantic

filling out forms fill out

rubber stamps

chase paper and now on-line

a room

for the spinning wheel of death

where we have forgotten

will forget

where were we?

hall of doors and mirrors

traps

creep through the ventilation shaft

walls close in

though rubberized

look for the mail

and I show up like a bad penny

long since the divorce

the heart is a church as well

all prey

upon

little window in the door

blinds up

peer in

it’s a sitcom

sand through the hourglass

and we have a serious side

whole cities sunk to love

a wicked cobalt blue

storms of

went down in the piano

fishing

not expected back

I found you in the compost pile

meaning we are weeds or worse

we garden only for the gnome

chewed and through

together

and all at sea

a light through the woods

is my heart come home

we live towards the unexpected

where I know that you will be 

#207 - skedaddle or somewhere else in my life

27.7.20

207

skedaddle

or

somewhere else in my life

                                                                          

when I will be home

 

thing shining

and rejoice

 

a timberlick of forest was

 

cul de sacs

and hidey holes

many ways to go

 

no keys

no cash

no phone

none call

 

just all among the day

which is a catch your balance thing

 

and have your sayso there

 

sneak by

as it was until

set off by adventure

 

even July has a middle

 

peer through static

thing missed

 

and tumble of all

set self a tone

 

the bees if I can

and choose to say an hour

 

I take up with the afternoon

 

iron gates thorough

come to a slowdown

blue a sky up

in dreams

 

all dances to the garden

streaming then

as if we were guessed

 

here’s the spot

 

rains come

when I will wash my brushes

 

will you find me

take up puzzle

?

 

far down in these clothes the animal is

an arrow after

cartoon corners round

 

make me a mystery

that’s for the vanish

I fear a cliché comes

 

try it moonlessly

 

you all of you were there

 

last in the ridgetop

westering

where the sun is still

 

nice loaf

and love the little breezes wrunga

 

rickety

ramshackle

hullabaloo

 

thing shining

and rejoice

 

woke up late

and they’d had day

I feigned unconcern

 

trod path’s here we are