Some of the detritus is going to jumble, some will be thrown out. My Mum needs more space. My dear little niece presumed today that the shed was mine. Yes, in a manner of speaking I replied. Bemused, I elaborated. Most of what's in it is mine but the room itself is Granny's.
Hidden away in a carrier bag in an old gramophone cupboard I found some of my old notebooks. I would say about 60% of these scribblings have been typed up at some point over the past twelve years in fits of little better to do. Much of the rest had been forgotten about. This from the mid 90s, for example, found in an A5 notebook manufactured by 'Europa':
Where have the galaxies of light, the enfolded, woven
threads of the beauty gone.
I wish again to know you
out past bounded fields of pain
taste again your smile
feel and hold in hands
warmths of flesh.
When you're gone
the framework in the head is shaken
spears and daggers of the abyss within
shed blood from the stars of order.
On the opposite page is an (unsent!) letter to a girl I got rather involved with (not her real name).
I have nothing to say to you except:
STOP MASHING MY BRAINS.