London

both a belated – and posthumous – mothers’ day

 

 

 

                yesterday there were
                                grey layers of cloud
                and I thought of my
                                Nan and Mum

                today I travelled to London
                                it is sunny with a beige mist hung low over the river

 

 

 

beige wormhole: rear attic / bedroom
Thames wormhole: Eglinton Hill
mist wormhole: duck calls
Nan wormhole: dream / 140603
Mum wormhole: currency of generations

 

heavy shower …

 

 

 

                                                      heavy shower …

                                                      the terracotta
                                                      chimney pot

                                                      on the lichen
                                                      stack before

                                                      the charcoal
                                                      cloud in the

                                                      sun break and
                                                      the wave of

                                                      birdsong in the
                                                      gardens’ trees

                                                      was golden

 

 

 

gold wormhole: grammar
chimney wormhole: sunny morning

 

promenade: / dual layering

 

 

 

promenade:
dual layering

plain white
trainers planted
slightly astride
head slightly
delayed follow
Euro – pean
phrase – sing

she looks at the grey sea
he looks at the gusted plants

 

 

 

Eastbourne & walking wormhole: the bench / on the fourth sister from / Birling Gap before the / wind-brushed scrub and gorse / and the grey-blue sky / smoothed through the / fishtank-blue horizon to / grey-green sea
promenade wormhole: promenade
sea wormhole: the sea plant

 

the bench / on the fourth sister from / Birling Gap before the / wind-brushed scrub and gorse / and the grey-blue sky / smoothed through the / fishtank-blue horizon to / grey-green sea

 

 

 

                                                              the bench
                                              on the fourth sister from
                                              Birling Gap before the
                                              wind-brushed scrub and gorse
                                              and the grey-blue sky
                                              smoothed through the
                                              fishtank-blue horizon to
                                              grey-green sea

                           one sugared
                           deep purple
                           blackcurrant
                           fruit jelly

 

 

 

blue sky wormhole: school uniform
Eastbourne wormhole: varnish
horizon wormhole: my life / of others
purple wormhole: 1967
sea wormhole: objective intimacy
stillness wormhole: at the apex
walking wormhole: dropped ’till you’ve shopped

 

school uniform

 

 

 

                           school uniform

                      grass too deep and green
                           to consider colour
                      stick to the tarmac grey
                           and blue to the step
                      and redbrick and flint stone
                           high to the window
                      small and greensky to reflect
                           and then

                      some boys by the ancient oak
                           have found a
                      natural high crouch and count
                           to twenty jump up
                      and someone pulls you tight around
                           the solar plexus
                      prolonged drift before blackout

 

 

 

Greenwich Park wormhole: ‘the importance of …’
Roan school wormhole: grammar
oak wormhole: grammar
blue sky wormhole: grammar

 

grammar

 

 

 

                           deep into the thinnest pages
                           soft as clean-cut sheets opened
                           either side stepped gently to
                           easy at-ten-tion typeface slightly
                           Edwardian-fine disciplined and
                           careers-old always supported by
                           slightly rubbled covers maybe
                           green maybe blue maybe
                           brown and embossed title
                           and publisher’s crest

                           tireless examples of grammar
                           with locating particularities which
                           only knit into a texture of
                           communication when gazing out
                           through the window at the
                           oaks and elms of Greenwich Park
                           and the deep grey skies over London

 

 

 

Roan school wormhole: dream / career / 040712
gold wormhole: grey air
oak wormhole: Eglinton Hill
blue sky wormhole: morning

 

Leicester

 

 

 

                                     Leicester

                                              thirty years later
                                     thirty years later!

                                     with the same girl
                           laying on the bed in the Travelodge
                           bare feet crossed a big toe stroking
                           her mad red tie-across dress rucked up
                           a little over her smooth legs
                           reading a Kathy Reichs comfortingly
                           scurfing her head let nobly
                           and handsomely grey now
                           a cup of tea too hot yet
                                     to drink

                           with the constant wet rnnncsh
                           of car tyres through the
                           Southgates Underpass through the
                           open window before hand-painted

                                 F I R E P L A C E S
                           ANTIQUE & REPRODUCTION
                           ←

                               room 117                  8:51 pm

 

 

 

C wormhole: handsome
reading wormhole: ‘I wanted to write a poem’

 

tired – diptych

 

 

 

                                                              tired

                     from sleep
                                   dream about to fight someone
                                                   poke my fingers in his eyes
                                   couldn’t control a class
                     even when angry
                                                   tired
                                   from looking for meaning
                                                              when writing
     drove 150 miles
                                                   nothing magical
                     no gorges of grey cloud
                                   to brace my fresh and steely view
                     sunny day
                                   people stupid
                     all acting lost to their wondrous nature
                                                   I, tired
                     and lost to my wondrous nature through judgement
                                                   stupid stupid stupid

 

                                                      ~ ^o^ ~

 

                                                              the Batman
                                                   is on a mission and a vow
                     absorbed and meticulous
                                   in every activity
                                                   the vow to strike fear
                     the mission to make justice
                                   even if he has to do it himself
     all without knowing his wondrous nature
                                                   at all
                     which cause his shadows and nemeses
                                                              to arise
                                   manifest and garish
                                                   askance and twilight-mirrored across town
                     the Joker – his freedom and adjustment
                                   denied and let wild
                                                   the Riddler – his doubt and guilt
                                   refused and shot with worm
     the Penguin – his child and hurt
                                                   abused and reviled by hope
                     the Catwoman – his love and beauty
                                                                      un-held and awkward to speak

                                   he climbs the outside of buildings
                                                              stupid stupid stupid

 

 

 

part of >>> Batman
travelling wormhole: travelling is fresh
mirror wormhole: ‘small town busy …’

 

“I / am Spartacus”

I am sorry everyone, things are going into a bit of a meltdown for me these past few days.   I think I need to take a break from posting and reading for awhile.   Get some perspective.   Remember how to breathe.   Á bientôt.

 

 

 

                                                                      “… I
                                                              am Spartacus”

                when mark redford spoke
                                everyone listened to their own plans
                when mark redford offered
                                everyone wanted something else
                when mark redford calculated
                                everyone assumed they had the answer anyway
                when mark redford went quiet
                                everyone carried on ignoring him

                mark redford steps on solid clumps of ground
                                floating in space crumbling at the edges
                                exposing the roots
                under                 and within
                                a shifting greymauvesky
                                with liquid bands of oliveochre merging

                mark redford is lost presumed missing
                                I am not mark redford
                                long live Mark Redford

 

 

 

… and if you’d pruriently like to see what it looks like for a teacher to be riddled then dissolved through the sheer and only power of of ignorance, have a look at the jaunty little site of http://ghostteachers.wordpress.com/

breakdown wormhole: twenty five / year career

 

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