il pleut
an abbreviated kind of day
that unfolds
in a list-like way
french toast
uses up
stale bits of bread
warm rain is falling
have been here a week
time seems
to shrink and expand
in weird ways
flip and flick
through journals
still raining
decide to make
a zine
small, simple-ish
reproducible
been on my mind a while to
make one, it fits somehow
takes all day and night ‘tho
ideas come and go
ambling, then rushing
through my head
by mid afternoon
the rain has gone
and for a break
visit the graveyard
…pastime of many a family holiday !
sentiments are kept to
a polite minimum here
most graves
have only names and dates
some are engraved
with regrets
or au revoir
understated n’est pas
the china flowers though
are memorable
pansies, chrysanthemums
and roses
chipped and faded
pinks and mauves
listen to the radio
as I work
a John le Carreé story
that is hard to follow
and I drift off into
a place of concentration
where everything else disappears
