it is a source of inspiration,
and research. it is written, yet
having writ. we use. imagination,
add a dose of suggestion, slightly
thinking this is fact we do not move
perhaps we should.
so moving on quickly we read the account
which is quite brief.
remember the voices.
know that caiaphas was just a man.
it will continue, good men die.
unpicked ready for the day.
tried to convey joy, delight at
some where back before, some where
so badly spelled. fell on deaf eyes,
ears that cannot see some things.
it is the middle of some where,
one hour’s parking, no photographs
he watched me through a window high,
had set the looms some thirty years.
he understood the wool, the thread,
the wonder of it all.
he said some people like utter rubbish.
research is kind, we have tried many colours.
we ate the cake, yet not wishing to appear
greedy left a crumb.
for a bird.
we wander through where the fence should be,
not minding the delay.
you see, we are lucky here, safe and dry,
we do really miss that little dog.
rewrite it, add the dots, delete the rhyme.
erase the last draft, start again,constantly.
wrap arte facts in paper. box for transportation.
lose the plot,scrap the lot, fear the repercussions
now there is a good word, if the space bar works.
do you wish you wrote longer stuff, important tomes,
well i do,
it is all ready now, i just need your instructions,
and i know you have asked.…