Cloth, Tailor

The turquoise denim jacket

Has an end of sleeve detail

Which I didn’t notice before

With your arm hung straight

The sleeve-end weight

Causes it to hang plumb

It is the right hand, and arm

Which I study

Caught at first by the sparkle

Of the semi-precious stone

In the ring

On your third finger

It is not a young hand

Yet not so obviously old

As mine, nevertheless

It has seen toil; the sort of toil

Which I was once so famous for

It became an obsession, almost

To fund a just beyond lifestyle

To buy immeasurable presents

Up to almost the final departure

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Seasonal

Will this be the only year

Will there be another year

Will there be a book of years

Is one whole year

Way too long

To try to comprehend

As the tightrope supports

Are raised from the ground

At the end of winter

As the access ladders

And platforms are fixed

Throughout springtime

As the sheer joy

Of walking the high-wire

Sustains us through summer

As the first steps of decay

Enter quietly but steadfast

Towards the back end of autumn

As the snap comes upon you

Others also begin to notice

The disharmony of winter

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Preamble

Preamble

The bramble is in bloom

The yellow gorse there’s yards of it, absolutely yards of it

The rain speckled rambler

Walks smiling through

This pathway followed by the monks of old

Today’s story told

Around last centuries newest abbey

Amongst the twisted vines, abreast the lavender

In the bookshop reading of retreats

Buying Aristotle's thoughts on happiness

The gentle people congregate

Smiling eyes, soft spoken voices

Back on the moors

Back among magnificent vistas

A thousand years of footsteps

A million miles of thoughts

The beauty brings alive the eyes, the ears

The traveller thanks his lucky stars

Nature has many more surprises

The river rises in a flash spring spate

Meditation in stained glass surrounds

To a backdrop of glory, of giving

Being your brother's keeper

Contributing for continuation

Sunshine, showers

Photographs of flowers

Reaching peace

Touching love

Being there

Just being

Immersed in adsorption

Feeling alive

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Left to right

You joked about my sloping margins

Though I forget, exactly what you said

They signified, but I will look it up

I will explore the details on google

If you should ever read my notebooks

Including this very one, you will see

That as I go down the page then my

Margins continuously widen

Which signifies: Extroversion, optimism

Enthusiasm, initiative, tendency

To detach from the mother

On the negative side:

Impatience, nervousness; precipitation

To achieve the goals that have been set

Budgets (money matters, time and efforts)

Are exceeded, hard to accomplish

Of course I am happy to tell you

Of the positives; also, quite probably

No, for sure; if all had been negative

This page would not be here

I don’t know, if what you told me

About your significance of margins

Lines up with what I found, but I am

Certain yours would be complementary

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Mark IV GT

Racing off into the solitude

Years before I had learned

To compose poems in the car

Or at least years before I had

Recorded poetry in the car

Whilst I was driving

That solitary metal box

With four doors

Six windows

Square or rectangular

Which, on my eighteenth

Birthday I had kitted out

With hi-fi set ups

Costing just beyond what

I could comfortably afford

For if one is going to be alone

Didn’t one ought, indeed, to have

A top-notch, impressive, sound system

How else might

The sorrowful songs of loneliness

Seep through the silence

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