I watched Joseph Beuys and his coyote
I didn’t get it. But I got Dusseldorf.
Do you know what I’m talking about?
A square that was never a square when it was a tram stop!
A Square that was never a square
Ernie Zobole and the Square.
In the beginning there was no square it was just a tram stop. Later on there was a “zebra crossing” on Partridge Square. There were no zebras. The tips overlooking Ynyscynon and Pontrhondda stood higher than the houses. A street lamp stood in the centre of a square that was never a square. The old tin shed Saint Cynon’s Church on one corner never stood on the corner of the square that was never a square. And some people of the square were strangers to reality too. Old man Christmas, a foundling left at the workhouse door that loomed over the square was given a job, lived and died in the place he’d been found that became a hospital. Hospitable. Poor mad Mansel stood directing traffic until he caused too many accidents and was taken away. “Nancy” boy Lewis 6 foot 6 inches and size 6 shoes. A retired copper of a gay persuasion ran the grocery shop on one corner and wrong changed you with a smile. Jack Fish the betting office next door with its black and white sign for dog biscuits on the pine end wall and opaque windows preventing wives looking in to see their husbands laying bets with the milk money. Prim and proper Owen’s Grocers on the other corner and everything weighed to the exact ounce by the thin hands of Deunwen. And the mock Chinese pagoda bus shelter complete with ladies and gents toilets absent too. A square named after a bird that nobody had ever seen on a square that was never a square. In reality a legendary provocation to the tyranny of perspective.
Rob Cullen
No answer
No answer.
I was awake sitting upright in darkness
Listening to the sound of spitting rain
hitting the skylights darkened pane
from the rhythm of my hearts racing
I knew that something had happened
that feeling in my gut of hopelessness
And I heard you say “Is it Tourette’s
The way you shout in your sleep”
And it was that waking time again
when nightmares and terrors reign
calling me from dreams so deep
It’s a kind of Russian roulette.
The dream felt as if it was real
as if it was really happening
as if I hadn’t been here before.
But it was the same time, same hour
that same real body feeling
sweating, heart beating. Real.
I was shouting out loud again
that noise echoing in my brain.
That noise that crunching sound.
That noise of steel being ground
brought me out of my sleep
Sweating, heart beating. Real.
Perfect Guiness Add
Waiting
You said we’d meet in the Packet
a bar that had a rough reputation
I wondered about that
as I ordered a Guiness.
You always kept me waiting
that was one of the things
one of many things
I liked about you.
The bar had fallen silent
I looked around and saw
the seagull on the top
of a broad brimmed straw hat.
You were six feet two
and stood head and shoulders
above the men lining the bar
all of them looking at you.
The sun glasses you wore
stared at me above
that wide white toothed grin
you said make that two pints.
I loved waiting for you.
The Silence of Shock by Maggie Mackay
Students, all women in our freshest years, we settled on landings with mugs of tea, never thought to lock our doors, and, late into the night as Sweet Baby James floated up the stairwell, we gossip…
. a distant sound .
Nightjars! Unforgetable!
i think i heard a night jar
up the valley here.
it was a quiet night except
for that.
we have the window open now.
sbm.
ATimetoHeal
ATimetoHeal
Choosing a place to sit
Isn’t that easy
I need to sit with my back
To a wall never a door
My preference is always
To sit where I can scan
The comings and goings
The entrances and leavings
Keep watch on that guy
Shouting when a whisper
Or words spoken quietly
Would do just as well
Hypervigilance its called
Another way to control
And avoid the threat
Of what might happen
But never does or maybe
It will if I let things slip!
He wears that badge
Yesterday watched GetLive performance at Chapter Arts.
Today sitting in the beer garden. He came in wearing
that badge a camouflaged service rucksack. Says everything.
We got to talk. He’s waiting for combat stress to do their stuff.
He needs it. Is what he says. He talk of waiting times…
for appointments. I think I need to come out of retirement.
I’m not silent anymore.
.bread and butter.
four slices.
she brought him four slices, butter
on white, fairly thick. he piled it high
with breakfast ingredients, and chips.
an hefty lad, avec workmates.
she asked if i will like toast or bread
and butter.
the latter and let it be white.
the coffee was milky.
sbm.
Celfypridd 