indefatigable and quietly militant naïveté …

dream 260815




                      dream 260815

wandering about the promenade, the schoolgirls1 urge, again, with
girly concern, for their friend, (‘am I old, should I listen to them?’),
I should speak to her, in Spanish – learn the sounds, (‘what does it
mean?’): ‘let me enclose you’; this time I will; I have demurred too long

I have said it; I find myself, returned to Genesta Road2; the frontage
rebuilt, even a storey higher, central stairwell – vertical purple glass –
where houses join, art deco3, Edinburgh rock cladding, balconies for
viewing, windows for seeing, stylish; (‘what’s happened to my home?’)

Nan4 opens the door, she is younger, smart, she has energy, things to
do; government grant, upgrade houses; (‘how have the rooms changed,
what is their view now?’); story: a skeleton found, (‘where?’), in her 40s
when she died, drunk, unfound, (‘in a cellar?’), (‘we haven’t got a cellar’),

(‘have we got a cellar?’); so we drive around Plumstead, Woolwich5, we
boat on the river; new buildings, coffee and cream block pattern, new
woodland on the hills, straight paths; I am looking after the child,
(‘Joseph?’)6, I love this child, I will look after him, at the swimming pool,

he jumps into a pool, it is deep, he goes under, arms asplay, I jump in,
save him, no panic, hold his soft body; we make to the paddling pool,
teenage boys sit around, various grey jackets with label design, sullen,
defiant, looking; they sit on the edge, put on their shoes, water has

drained: platforms, winkle-pickers, creepers, suede, chains; mud on the
tiles; I make the stand1, I hold my child, they should not do this: they leave,
slowly, I am now marked; I hand the child back to his parents, I kiss his
head, I’ll see him again; we are coming home now, Carol7 smiles at my love


1. I am a teacher
2. my teenage home
3. there are somewhat famous examples of art deco terraces further up the road at 85-91, designed by Berthold Lubetkin
4. my grandmother (1906-1989), helped bring me up as a teen
5. SE London, where I grew up
6. my eldest son
7. my lovely wife




buildings & glass & Thames wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
Carol & dream & life & looking & Woolwich wormhole: dream 230315
child wormhole: … back to the outbreath
Genesta Road wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile
grey wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47
hills wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
identity wormhole: The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …
living wormhole: I can say / that I do all sorts of dance
love wormhole: I do
Nan wormhole: letters to Mum V – carrying on in duty and love
Plumstead wormhole: corner of Plum Lane / Eglinton Hill and / Shrewsbury Lane
promenade wormhole: the Last Day of Morecambe Illuminations
purple wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
thinking wormhole: dedication
windows wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925


House by the Railroad, 1925




                                House by the Railroad, 1925

                                now the sides go up
                                yes the sides go up

                                and the columns come down
                                yes the columns come down

                                and the windows look out
                                yes the windows look out

                                and the windows let in
                                yes the windows let in

                                and the ledges stick out
                                yes the ledges stick out

                                and the roofs step up
                                yes the roofs step up

                                and the shadows cast depth
                                yes the shadows cast depth

                                all cushioned by the sleepers
                                all cushioned by the sleepers

                                of the track track track … annd





house wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
passing wormhole: along
rooftops & windows wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
shadow wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
sound wormhole: The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …


The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909




                                 The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909

                                 the mansard roofs were sullen
                                 right up to their windows, even the

                                 Pont du Carrousel was brooding, begrudging,
                                 still, its continued expanse; but

                                 the trees were aflame in anticipation, they
                                 have always breathed the scape of sky

                                 to ascertain continued combustion, never
                                 cursed it to a line, however stylish





breathing wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
bridge wormhole: new year’s eve 2014; train up to London to / walk the bridges across the Thames, and / listen to the voices say it is, and was, like, / but get back home before the fireworks / obliterate it all in the emptying twilight
Paris wormhole: the air of architecture
rooftops wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts
sky & trees wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
skyline wormhole: up here
storm wormhole: after the storm
trees wormhole: dream 230315






                                                                 The Godfather III:

                                                                 silent         cry
                                   mouth open ugly naked
                                                 power gone

                   and every cog of every decade caught
                   on the same piece of rag coiled around each tooth
                   limp bloody and hair-fallen in her mother’s arms

                                                                                              … … …

                                                         … … …

                … … …






film wormhole: I need to keep my eyes open / in meditation
hair wormhole: the tangles fall apart
Have wormhole: the lines are not that straight / after all
identity wormhole: dream 230315
mother wormhole: sight / seeing
mouth wormhole: sitting
power wormhole: the Conqueror
sound wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting


dream 230315




                                                      dream 230315

                           walking through town in a Woolwich
                           cleaned timeless on a sunny morning

                           into the clinic along Powis Street on time
                           for my eventual appointment in life;

                           the first client amid the beginning-of-day
                           chat, dispersal into action behind screens;

                           she sits on the settee, I sit on the swivel
                           chair; she looks at me       assessing, I feel

                           good in my natty casual clothes; she cannot
                           speak, tries several times, she consults a

                           colleague; they are surprised, the consultation
                           becomes a sit-down party, I, fade from the

                           scene … walking about the seaside town, the
                           preparations for the coming day of all the

                           business and the leisure to be made from it –
                           hand-painted lettering in bleary windows a

                           metal stand is handed down to the beach
                           showing the way to the after-dinner boat

                           trip (where will it moor?); the water is full
                           of junked buoys, slimey and sun-faded; a sea

                           plane passes overhead up the beach – no help –
                           a huge helijet comes in low – gigantic – heading

                           for the airport – airport? – falling, she’s
                           too big for the town, nose-diving, disappears

                           into collapse like a building with plumes
                           of columns and lightning on the horizon;

                           Carol and the kids; I run to where I left them,
                           not at the station, no entry; but here is

                           Charlotte, only 6; train is leaving town,
                           Charlotte has gone, I cannot see Carol;

                           I run down the platform to say goodbye,
                           she turns to face me; she is Mum





beach & morning & time wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
Carol & looking wormhole: recline
Charlotte wormhole: ‘my Dot …’
dream & windows & work wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
horizon wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
identity wormhole: it is complete
life wormhole: Detective Comics #345
lightning wormhole: footfall
Mum wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
sea wormhole: Buddha / Shakyamuni
talking wormhole: you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out
train wormhole: travelling
walking wormhole: earthed
Woolwich wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile







                                on her side
                                her arm up-reaching
                                hand right-angled
                away bare toes stretching blue dress banked flowers draped she
                                looked behind and suddenly slightly





blue wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47
Carol wormhole: I do
hands wormhole: I love with all the history and lack of perfections at our command
looking wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
smile wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile


Evening Wind, 1921




                Evening Wind, 1921


                      I have

                      the bed
                      is open

                      and cold
                      I shall

                      dry my
                      self in

                      the air
                      of town

                      and breathe
                      the scent

                      of stone
                      and paint

                      work port-
                      al to dream

                      where the
                      work can

                      all night

                      with vigour





air & breathing & open wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
dream & windows wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
evening wormhole: “King …”
mind wormhole: good session
sleep wormhole: for goodness’ sake
stone wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
wind wormhole: along
work wormhole: prayer to my self


it is complete




                it is complete
                I can listen to all the pain
                                all the doubt and all the diminish
                                where the Venn diagrams
                                              overlap rather than merge
                                              convening a local hierarchy
                                                              always inverse to the myriad
                                                              always averse to the area left
                                              uncovered and unknown but
                                              I cannot expect the same from others
                                I can give            and become wide but
                                it will not be reciprocated
                up down or sideways
                and that is my duty

                                (and that is my beauty)
                                but not my tragedy
                                and not my failure





acceptance wormhole: nothing // matters
beauty wormhole: my beauty
giving wormhole: truly invisible
identity wormhole: I can say / that I do all sorts of dance
others & talking to myself wormhole: prayer to my self


Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47




                                Ashdown Forest
                                080213 14:47

                armchair sit back deep arms
                high under long low belts
                                of carpet
                                upside down
                                and then

                a gap
                wide to the right over the gorse





Ashdown Forest wormhole: earthed
blue & grey wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
carpet wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
clouds wormhole: now, have I forgotten anything
sitting wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
stillness wormhole: of a sudden // all the time
yellow wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts


I can say / that I do all sorts of dance




                                                              I can say
                                              that I do all sorts of dance

                                but actually
                I just sit round the edge
                                              and wish I wasn’t there at all
                                collecting juxtapositions

                you asked me to dance*
                                but I only really know to dance
with a twist of notice
                                              and a blink of linger …

                                as I wandered
                through the days thinking of rejoinder
                                I stirred a cup of tea
                                              the bag twirled
                                and clung to the spoon
                                but I kept on
                stirring more slowly about the edge
                                and the bag
just spun at first then trailed
                                even after I lifted out the spoon
                and added milk

Student: Is it that hope and fear have to fade away before the –
Trungpa Rinpoche: before the dance can take place. Yes, definitely.
Student: What you’re saying is that you have to take the first step …
Trungpa Rinpoche: Yes, you have to be pushed into it …
Student: Are you pushing?
Trungpa Rinpoche: I think so**


* I started writing this with Sarah Jane Jacobson who used to run a blog on WordPress; I kept on demurring that she was too young and energetic for me, so it came to nothing; I’ve just re-found my parts and doodled with them bittersweetly
** selected exchanges between Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche and students during the Crazy Wisdom Seminar at Jackson Hole, Wyoming, December 1972 (compiled into ‘Crazy Wisdom‘, Shambhala, 1991, page 35)




Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche wormhole: first a mishap then clear vision
dancing wormhole: sight / seeing
identity wormhole: Detective Comics #345
living wormhole: the endless acts of life
tea wormhole: dawn



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