there was a call and far from no response

 

 

 

                                                   but make no mistake
                                   a wound was inflicted damage was done
                                   there was a call and far from no response

                                   the call was only slightly heard amid
                                   the wrenches drillings and spanner-clangs
                                   of a professionalism being stripped-down
                                   re-aligned re-placed re-tracked
                                   re-hung for some brand new
                                   Certificate of Worthiness
                                   and the radio still constantly playing D:reams
                                   washing down sweeping up what’s the time
                                   picking up waiting light off shutters down

                                   a few say, ‘what’s this dual logic auto-transmission
                                   left in the corner, should it have been used?’
                                   better keep quiet about it – (whistling) –

 

 

 

career & breakdown wormholes: I will
loneliness wormhole: anxiety

 

I will

 

 

 

                                     pick up the pen
                                     nothing to write
                                     almost the end of term
                                     arguing with people
                                     in my mind I come
                                     to the end of my
                                     full-time career

                                     I will create still
                                     in teaching but I will write
                                     and I will sit I will infuse
                                     my work through
                                     writing and in sitting

                                     I will dwell in
                                          creating
                                          teaching
                                     and only do that

                                           I will not extrapolate
                                           I will not extemporise
                                           I will not extreme
                                     but I will express
                                           I will exist so
                                           I will not expire

                                                       I will create the centre
                                                 I will open the centre
                                           I will centre the centre
                                     the very same centre of
                                     sitting and writing and teaching
                                     and I shall live there where
                                     I have not been living now
                                     for twenty four years

 

 

 

breakdown & career wormholes: pep talk
creation wormhole: wriving

 

pep talk

 

 

 

            pep talk

            use the markbook
            construct the lessons
                but not solely
                not all the time
                not relentlessly
                not as a speciality
            make lessons up as I walk into the room
                plan lessons and abandon them
                           change
                           your
                           mind
                                     be the teacher
                                              you want to be
                mercurial suggestive seed-planting messy unpredictable unreliable
            be the teacher
                that knows nothing about teaching
            and when anyone tells you you are good
                do not trust them
            create your art through teaching little occasional poems
                scattered here and there across lessons and minds
            be changeable variable multiple
                creatively suggestively peeringly wonderingly

            all that allow me to teach using my natural powers
            not confined in desperation to be recognised
            not confined within a Managed Performance

 

 

 

breakdown & play & dancing wormholes: a bit painful this
career wormhole: for the good of all
poetry wormhole: ‘I wanted to write a poem’
recognition wormhole: brilliance

 

for the good of all

 

 

 

                                at some points in time
                                I made a markbook
                                I conceived levelled-lessons and learning
                                but then I expected there to be an
                                inevitable way to their propagation
                                for the good of all (for the Good of All)
                                but all that actually happened
                                was I used my markbook
                                I taught my lessons
                                and in these ways I worked
                                the good of all
                                moment after moment
                                no glory no flag just
                                the noble tumbleweed

 

 

 

career wormhole: wriving
giving wormhole: brilliance

 

wriving

 

 

 

                                                              wriving

                           when I try too hard people just get annoyed
                                I only got average grades at school

                           my writing is not to prove me to the world
                                not to be sent through boarding school

                           not in writing not in teaching not in my career
                                that touch the lives of people

                           I do not have to raise a flag in the world to be
                                I create privately sufficient unto themselves

                           sufficient for to see, sufficient for to breathe …

                                          write
                                     write a huge book of poems
                                          unorganised and all over the place
                                                   sufficient just to be

 

 

 

part of >>> writing and being
breathing wormhole: LET’S GO!
career wormhole: returning home
creation wormhole: “crop / rotation”
others wormhole: preee- / senting // en- / senting

 

nightmare

 

 

 

                                anxious about returning
                                to air that I cannot inhale

                                nervous about exhaling any
                                more where it is still fetid

                                fearful that I’ll be rendered
                                a ghost again a nightmare

                                in which I won’t be able to
                                remember my own breath

 

 

 

… some of you may be aware that I have been off work for the past four months, working my way defeated and flick-eyed through what is turning out to be my fourth breakdown from the school I work in; through all sorts of pulling myself up by my own collars and all sorts of looking deep into my own stare in the mirror, I am moving towards returning, still empty of confidence but with a much deeper understanding of what I am not; let’s see if the leviathan has changed or moved, shall we …?

breakdown wormhole: dream 100213
breathing wormhole: how ironic
school wormhole: ‘stomping home from school …’

 

returning home

 

 

 

                                   returning home

                                   out of ennui
                                   I grasped for significance

                                   I clung to significance
                                   despite ennui

                                   I built a career
                                   out of significance

                                   around tragedy now
                                   I must deconstruct it

                                   and embrace
                                   ennui

 

 

 

career wormhole: someone’s back
compassion wormhole: the discovery of / leaving no trace
pointlessness wormhole: for so long

 

‘once upon a quarter century …’

 

 

 

                           once upon a quarter century
                           the beat and heart of teaching
                                thousands of birds
                                through all time
                                come to the ancient tree
                           was quantified immeasurably
                           inverse to a fading quality
                                generations now of
                                magpies and crows
                                who bring dispute
                                and change and sit
                                in the tree making
                                loud noises
                           all the better to make the numbers rise and fall my dear
                           consistency and behaviour to within an inch of its life
                                droppings in the branches
                                droppings down the trunk

 

 

 

birds wormhole: mlewis diptych
branches wormhole: Eglinton Hill

 

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 …’

 

… someone’s back

 

 

 

… I think; nothing’s solved, there is only fore-shortened outcome as the Mechanism rolls out its Procedure of Care trying to track down that ghost;

I am in ‘wither’ with the school I have worked in for the last twenty five years; every so often, and quite despite my unrelenting stubborness to continue on disregarded, I collapse; the most recent collapse was even more lost and frightened than I am used to and I don’t think I can platitude my way back out of this one (see obituary … if you have the stomach);

I thougt to cut down my activity to return myself to myself, but I couldn’t find him anywere, only the pain and lost-bearing which have haunted him all along anyway; I had a dream last night which I posted this morning – it feigns to hold the answer although I can’t quite breathe what it is yet; but then I had posted it, instinctively; so I gave myself a slap but my hand passed straight through: there is only the activity that makes any sense of the machine beng here in the first place; it is not wrong, but it is, after all, only levers and pivots; I must continue on acting, invisible and occasionally chain-rattling, otherwise all those girders and diagonals will look ridiculous standing there, windswept and wailing;

so maybe returning back to blogging is the first step to returning back to living … thank you so much to all the good voices that whispered over my shoulder ‘remember that we are here’, you all left an echo that I could navigate by

 

 

 

career wormhole: dream 100213