calculated indefatigable and tentatively illimitable naïveté …

Dr Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street





                the always-aslant encounter
                                              of humans and street
                                making their lives
                                              in the grounds they see
                making their lives in the grounds they are given
                                                              constant encounter
                                as variable as the daily

                                                              for those who see
                elliptical to the happenstance –
                                              the skyline to the treeline
                                                              the glide to the cobble
                                the palm to the point
                                              the both-step-aside to avoid each other’s path
                                              and collide –
                                                              Hopper saw it
and Colan saw it and Strange had already
                                              stepped into it
                                                              stepped through it stepped out again


                                                              but now
                his pupils are that much more round
                                the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
                                                              the face in the orb implied
                that everything had changed and that
would never be the same again

                                              continued …


askance from: Dr Strange #6-13 (Feb 1975-April 1976); Marvel; writer: Steve Englehart; artist: Gene Colan




being & seeing wormhole: scattered
change wormhole: letters to Mum I – a walk / and talk
Dr Strange & world wormhole: four-colour pulp into cinematic di[gital]pix[el][live ac]tion so easily makes for semantic palava (if you read what I mean) … the foredreading of Dr Strange
hands wormhole: is she / looking at me?
horizon wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
life wormhole: thinking wide enough
passing wormhole: just
skyline wormhole: a maturity
streets wormhole: the long road
trees wormhole: tag cloud poem VII – form new freedom:


four-colour pulp into cinematic di[gital]pix[el][live ac]tion so easily makes for semantic palava (if you read what I mean) … the foredreading of Dr Strange

Hello everyone.   Batman is a special character for me (because I cannot be certain if I am not Batman), and, I didn’t particularly like the recent Nolan trilogy of films!!!   They had the elements of the character all there but made him way too blatent in delivery.   It just all read wrong.

The translation of character and story from one genre to another takes SO MUCH more than just transliteration!   Everything that grew and worked and contextualised in four-colour panel, everything that filled that form and then manipulated it to reach beyond itself to become transformative [art], everything that emerged during the 1960s (and there is a whole, American history that nurtures the bloom of Marvel and DC during this decade and the next); all this needs to be deconstructed and re-realised to make it anything more than a literal, phonetic transliteration which doesn’t enable anyone in any way to speak a different language … anyway, I digress,

I hear that another seminal character of mine is being put to film – Dr Strange.   I once put a pitch about filming Dr Strange to the Longbox Graveyard but he laughed me back into the box (if you make the link you can read his ripost – I like the guy, but he has dollar signs as pupils).   I still like the pitch, however:

Dr Strange operates in worlds which are ‘mystical’ in the sense that they function within natural laws and forces which are alternate to our own – they are worlds which we just don’t get and it would be better for us that we didn’t know about them so we can continue functioning ourselves.   And yet Stephen Strange is of and from this world – he is all too human but has mastered the Mystic Arts.   He therefore lives between the two worlds – the physical/political and the occult worlds – or rather he lives amid at the same time.   He is ‘strange’ because he bridges these two worlds, and this is the central pull of the character for me.

In comics the ‘occult’ world was depicted fantastically (the floating-island footsteps of Ditko, the swirls of Colan) because it was a visual medium meant for younger audiences (growing up); but the occult world doesn’t so much ‘look’ strange (like a childishly re-arranged physical world), in fact it isn’t even a different world it is the same world ‘seen’ (and ‘heard’ and ‘felt’ and acted in) differently.   What was equally attractive about Dr Strange (and under-used in the comics) was the depiction of the character in ordinary, recognisable surroundings but knowing he was actually operating in a world out of the space-time continuum.   I would conceive that Strange’s ‘battles’ took place while he was strolling through a park, while walking on the street, in the blink of an Eye (herm).

I once heard David Lynch talk about how he achieves his perspectives in his work is by ‘filming through the eye of a duck’ meaning that he doesn’t just film ‘lineally’ he films simultaneously/alternately – he shoots a scene/whole films which physically depict one narrative but which affectively show an alternate landscape in which they play out.   What better ‘mise-en-scene’ist than David Lynch to depict the life of a character who has ‘mastered’ the arts of living bridged across two worlds-in-one?   No need of CGI, no need of costumes, not even much need of action!   I know, I know, not the ingredients for your standard summer blockbuster money-maker.   But they have been done and will continue to be done under their own momentum.   Dr Strange, as you mention, has always been a peripheral character because he is so … strange.   Perhaps this would be time to make a different take on the comics-to-film translation formula …

Anyhoo … I would like to steal some of the hype and hollywood on the project by publishing a series of poeviews on the character taken from a run of issues of Dr Strange from the mid-1970s written by Steve Englehart and drawn by Gene Colan … they’ll be falling like leaves over the next few weeks






                                   as the rock rolled to a stop
                                   the horsefly landed on it

                                               in the

                                   waiting for the storm
                                   a puff of air came in through the open window





air & open & windows wormhole: the echo of / a small box
evening wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
passing wormhole: deeper
storm wormhole: through the window // it doesn’t matter


thinking wide enough





some progress seeing just how pervasive and absorbing is
                this chatter
sitting or not sitting, makes no difference


                Roshi’s comment
that we are all just perfect as we are
                just that
we could all do with a little improvement


                having difficulty
amid all the cacophonous statement and Have
                to find
the voice to join the discussion I thought was there to have


or professionally, makes no difference but then
I am just not thinking wide enough





Have wormhole: we’re born // to die
letting go & thinking wormhole: whirlpool
life wormhole: cloud
settling & talking to myself wormhole: scattered
Shunryu Suzuki Roshi wormhole: Professionalism … in teaching
sitting wormhole: reversing the polarity
society wormhole: a known from without the unknown






                                              writing is finding
                                meaning in things
                as they are

                                              is seeing
                                the connection between things
                that springs them from inertia

                                              is wearing
                                the 3D glasses that see things
                stood out

                                              is the word
                                that qualifies things dynamic
                and seceded from obligation

                                              I am not plotted
                                and structural I am
                adventitious and glimpsing

                                              it is my living
                                sews together all the
                threads eventually

                                              therefore write
                                just write       and live
                not books not essays    just relaxedly






being wormhole: rainbow
identity wormhole: a known from without the unknown
living & settling wormhole: breathe it all / in
meaning wormhole: the Buddha head in an antique shop
naïveté wormhole: vagued
obligation wormhole: irretrievable / breakdown / of marriage
seeing wormhole: I could step / more open
talking to myself & time & writing wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger


the echo of / a small box




                                the echo of
                                a small box

                                through drops
                                down the window

                                to one side the
                                grey cloud to the

                                other the sunset
                                and the cold air

                                through the window
                                which won’t close properly





air wormhole: cloud
clouds wormhole: a maturity
echo wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
grey wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y
open wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
sunset wormhole: the strange mauve relief of / this burgundy-gritty encounter
windows wormhole: oh-pen too


the long road




                                                      the long road

                           the bright sunlight splash
                           splsshd across the street perched

                           on telegraph poles
                           as cars ebbed down it





birds wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y
cars wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
roads & streets wormhole: letters to Mum V – carrying on in duty and love
sky wormhole: cloud
sound wormhole: deeper


a maturity




                                          it is the cowl
                                evinces the realisation in the
                                          mould of brow

                                          it already looks
                                in the direction of the green glove
                                          pointing beyond

                                          to the waves
                                of cloud above the skyline
                                          make his eyes

                                          blank when
                                he contemplates deeply and throws his
                                          shadow ogre-ly

                                          against a wall
                                the action then is succinct and

                                          to queer
                                the obstacle before it even reaches:
                                          a maturity




Batman wormhole: whirlpool
clouds wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
doing wormhole: extrapolates
eyes & Robin & shadow wormhole: capes flying
green wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y
looking wormhole: rainbow
realisation wormhole: cloud
skyline wormhole: Batman#175


Jean Miller kissed Salinger




                                now let’s see
                those same leaves on the palm frond waving
                alternately like flippy fingers, same as this morning
                                have stopped

                                yes, and the
                light blue rough stucco wall dividing our terrace
                120 from 121 is lined cream coffee by the sun
                                twenty five
                                to nine and

                                the curtain
                by the open door hangs slightly billowing
                like the morning of the first dress of the summer
                                the day
                                I read

                that Jean Miller kissed Salinger in the taxi
                and continued after the sun dipped below the





blue & clouds wormhole: cloud
breeze & leaves wormhole: no hat
coffee wormhole: we’re born // to die
curtains wormhole: achieving good-enough living
doors wormhole: the Buddha head in an antique shop
evening wormhole: deeper
horizon wormhole: Batman#175
morning & sun & time wormhole: corroboration
open wormhole: oh-pen too
reading wormhole: letters to Mum V – carrying on in duty and love
talking to myself wormhole: extrapolates
writing wormhole: sunny morning








                                arriving home
                                I took a photo
                                of the sun low
                                behind the oak
                                and found that
                                chimneys and
                                rooftops were
                                deeply pink and sandstone after all


genesta garden




childhood & rooftops wormhole: cloud
chimney & morning & sun wormhole: sunny morning
garden & oak wormhole: ‘“ruddy crows!” / said my Dad …’
Genesta Road & work wormhole: letters to Mum V – carrying on in duty and love
home wormhole: quest in brown
pink wormhole: deeper
time wormhole: a known from without the unknown



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