I think the turbine is cracked I hear a whine

I could

try to tell her

like I’m trying to tell you

the hardest thing I ever did

was to try & forget my shame

not the poverty

that runaway mother

living in hiding behind doors

people raised me told me

I was worthless

feeling everyday like the other

but the needing to pretend

everything was ok

I was living fine

while inside I felt

nothing but black dust

smoulder fire

burning through yesterday

today

until there was nothing left

but a shell

ephemera

these willow wisps

phantasms

thoughts

that spin out

& if

there is no pen handy

paper to place

the cat comes in

she calls from another room

the phone rings to sell me shit

a great song comes on the radio

salesman banging at the door

or just plain self distraction

looking out the window

wondering on ifs buts

these poems

vehicles for ideas

have gone

& they may or not

ever

come up for air

once more

for his new judy

no big punches

came from the man

he was showing out

for his new judy

have you heard the new sound?

didja read the great book by?

yeah in that movie

the one you haven’t seen?

yeah he was great holds the scenes

man the dude was preening

flaring out those feathers

showing flashes of colour on each

but there were no big punches

just this steady pitter patter

slow low blows which could

given enough slow time

create their own winning route

all for showing out for the new judy

but what he did not know

would ever know from any of us

she would in the end let him down

same as she did one very one here

when they too once thought

she was mine

some misunderstanding

I wore clothes with colour

when I was a kid

& then?

that all stopped

never finding out

who gave the order

of why?

as it became harder

to find duds I loved

clothes I liked was easy

but loved?

menswear became bland

blue for jeans check shirts

black for trousers coats

greys in everything

but red orange purples paisley

were all gone

caernarfon

sitting on the river bank

half a mile from the sea

the tide is out now

& only two thin rivers remain

then we hear the commotion of crows

calling loud & crude

over the low water mud

we begin looking for the ruckus

& there

in the slight gloom of under tree

a faint colour

looking up into the trees

at the one jet black crow

on a low branch scolding

the fox begins slipping away

hiding under a melange

of flotsam jetsam washed up wood

our crow flies in to find foxy

as then a ginger face appears

close enough to snap at feet

so near to our now bird of prey

quickly the crow moves out of reach

continuing to screech

while Reynard

our newly adopted ginger step child

lopes away becoming camouflaged

while the crow scolds on

but our beast

has moved on

pushing through

in so many ways

she has never been

to these places

that i’m driving her through

delighted to see experience

if for me this feels as tho’

I’m pushing through

glutinous emotional soup

over there a wall I slept behind

a girl I knew & lost lived here

went to that university

top of that hill green & in the sun

& there on that black mountain

there I maundered lost lonely

a few nights of cold & tired

having nowhere to go

nobody to turn to

no money no job nothing

& now she is asking

why are you being so quiet?

& how to answer without

a whiff of whine

some nostalgia of self pity?

a look sideways

I’m not sure if she is aware

she is leaking letting her feelings out

about him

give a snideways look

mentions he needs bigger shirts

bigger jeans

as I give a sideways look

checking out his reactions

seeming unperturbed

accepting the comment

there are others to come

& another time he confides

they are rarely lovers now

which I don’t know how to deal with

sympathy sadness

suggest advice to go get advice?

instead we both look sideways

check out the scenery avoid eye contact

& I want to express some anger

when the fuck did you decide

to settle for so much less?

but no we look sideways

let the silence settle over us

we are men holding our feelings inside

sound of your own voice

sitting out sipping

& this one says

you do like

the sound of your own voice eh?

spoken unkind no hint of lilt

& what to say?

you are I offer welcome to leave

at any time

if I was talking

I thought I was among friends

happy to revise that

at any time

but she didn’t shift get to her feet

& I knew full well

I’d lost the audience

thinking when she did go

I’d change the locks

stop answering the phone

& see how much she liked

the silence then

stealth mode

his bike

had been stolen out of his garage

so we knew

we were dealing with brazen people

& word came

an exact bike like his was down the road

outside a bar

we sent a car stealth mode go look make sure

& there it was

he sloped over bent down to tie a lace

make sure

& as he got up to signal this was the one

his bright steel ‘duster

went a skittering singing along the ground

came a silence

the doors of the bar opened people came out

shit the fight was on

we got it back

we got the bruises the marks black eyes

but

we got the job done

test the theory

I was young then

& so little

of anything bothered me

you might say

I was stupid just numb

or possibly free

but I thought I might

just test the theory

if my presence means nothing

that me in her life

might mean less to her than me

one night I walked out

spent time with friends

travelled some roads

ended up in good company

& last I heard

she was doing fine

ended up doing everything

she’d been doing before

how easy I could be replaced