as

 

 

 

                                              as

                                                              the shadow
                                              windowed and blinded
                                across the conservatory
                crockery in the breeze being cleared from
                                someone’s garden table and
                the plastic clack of a wheelie bin – tomorrow I think

                I notice underneath the ironing board leant against the wall
                                                              a lime cover under a pink
                                              flowered cover under a
                                yellow-duned cover and

                                where the lilac silk
                                              emulsion has caught the reflection
                                                              of the deep blue carpet
                                              it looked
                                metallic

 

 

 

shadow wormhole: Peeks at Castleton
conservatory wormhole: thawing
lime wormhole: your gold teeth
lilac wormhole: William Carlos Williams
pink wormhole: two fat ladies / chk klak klip // all the while

 

anatta

 

 

 

                                                              anatta

                                     in a world that
                just don’t work right
                           that just don’t work right
                to make sense to me
                           to make sense of me
                there is great comfort
                           in spin-off where
       ideas can be cohesive
                and reach out like tendrils
                           for to grow my own roots and fibre
       where pictures can be composed
                and deepen like open envelopes
                           to structure my walls and windows
       where sounds can be accorded
                and wonder like turns of a breeze
                           there to open doors and
                                     navigate my way
       and all my lifetime leaping (taller than a single building)
                           and running (faster than a speeding bullet) from the
                           very ground I start from
                                     every time

 

 

 

superhero wormhole: preee -senting // en- / senting
Superman wormhole: and no one would know
thinking wormhole: how ironic
world wormhole: brave new world?

 

chrysalissing

 

 

 

                           chrysalissing

out of a foggy life of past with just
      faint lemon lights of echo
I slightly formed vague and beguiled
      by object and window

out from the shift of role I saw
      that the whole of world
was a turning whale its form clear
      and hideous as it receded

out through the greying blue
      of bequeathed roles
decaying within the dark-wood panelling
      I searched for rooftops and breezes

out through the work to need I conceived
      mechanism sufficient to breathe
but found myself ragged and mumbling on the mauve and olive plane of squander
      ghostly to the machine

in through the tragedy of awkward shoulder oblique with neck and cranium
      and shoals of voice uniformly shifting
I settle back and breathe in through the enveloping odyssey
      homing at last

 

 

 

lemon wormhole: backseat

 

fresh start

 

 

 

                                   fresh start

                steering my life into
                night time envelopment

                helpful gusts from
                the wet street

                offer occasional wafts
                of powdery net curtain

                over long-dried gloss

 

 

 

part of >>> writing and being
part of >>> breeze

 

two writing haikwo

I’d like to re-present a couple of pieces that appeared early on in this blogs history …

 

 

 

                   writing again by
       the falling net curtains and
           the wet car tyres

 

 

 

                                                                                                   typewriting by the
                                                                                           open window showering
                                                                                               heavily outside

 

 

 

part of >>> breeze
existing in … writing and being

 

honest

 

 

 

                                          I sit
                                     and for a few
                                          precious seconds
                                     maybe even
                                          partial seconds
                                     if I’m honest

                                          I’ll breathe
                                          like a tulip

                                     without my notice
                                          or intention
                                     and ‘like a flash of lightning
                                          in the dark of night’
                                     the whole garden
                                          will shift with the breeze
                                     and theme the colour of the moment

                                          too quick
                                     to shelter from the
                                          timeless creeping penumbra
                                     a tangled grubby weave
                                          of voice and echo wide as the sky

                                          ah, but the air the air

 

 

 

part of … oh
part of >>> breeze

 

bench / corner of Cantwell Road / and Eglinton Hill

 

 

 

                                                              bench
                                          corner of Cantwell Road
                                              and Eglinton Hill

                                do I work things out when
                                they are tangled and knotted
                                do I find a way a groove
                                a superpower that will
                                see me through
                                like an armoured vest

                                          no no
                                          fifty two
                                          years no

                                you pay attention
                                to the shade the leafgreen
                                behind you the breeze
                                between the collar and
                                the back of your neck
                                and the classic two-tone
                                mauve Chrysler emerge
                                from Nithdale Road
                                and turn downhill

 

 

 

a room in the House on Eglinton Hill
Plumstead wormhole: 1970s

 

snow and incense

 

 

 

                           sitting trying
                           not to look
                           at the snowfall
                           under the streetlight

                           then the curtain shifted –
                           snow and incense

 

 

 

part of >>> breeze

1973

 

 

 

                                                              1973

                     late in the evening
                     trees shifted in the breeze outside
                     while peoples’ lives were touched on the tv

 

 

 

part of >>> years
part of >>> breeze
evening wormhole: 1976

 

140 m.p.h.

 

 

 

                                              140 m.p.h.

                checking
                one by one
                the speed clocks of each car
                to find the highest

                the Rover
                by the old house
                behind the trees and bushes
                under a sunny breeze
                heralding Springtime

 

 

 

part of >>> breeze
a room in the House on Eglinton Hill