Batgirl –

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                Batgirl –

                peering over her glasses
                through the fourth wall

                all of a sudden there was
                long grass in silhouette

                over which to run
                and there were foregrounds

                of leaf behind which
                to proceed and she thought,

                I could keep my looks
                under cowl and let

                the quiet and angry hair
                take siting and co-ordinates,

                let the cape field the
                flow of air while

                Batmobiles rev loudly
                and float adrift the green

                and current stalks –
                aimless to behold

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

air & sound wormhole: when the rain has settled / the dust
Batman wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
flow wormhole: concordance
glasses wormhole: city streets
green wormhole: without any buffet at all
hair wormhole: looking ahead
Infantino wormhole: Infantino KO
leaves wormhole: leaves
looking wormhole: snapshots about Totnes
power wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
silhouette wormhole: river
thinking wormhole: sweet chestnut
walls wormhole: is this it // all the time

 

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without any buffet at all

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                                                surfacing
                                from a quiet sag – only noticed when
                surfacing amid the twilight sump,

                                                only
                                the silence of lapping remembered when damp seam and sole
                feel cold and slimely green –

                                                still
                                I do not know my true nature, panicking and gasping,
                wanting to float, wanting to hover,

                                                even,
                                without any buffet at all, without taint, and
                the local too close to distinguish

                                                myse-

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

acceptance wormhole: prelude: // travel
being & depression & identity wormhole: lack of center
green wormhole: river
pointlessness wormhole: is this it // all the time
silence wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
twilight wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
water wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha

 

lack of center

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                recent relapse
                months long
                before it was
                even noticed

                I cannot write
                about it even
                now it has let
                off, too pervasive

                I cannot separate
                myself from it
                and suspect I
                shouldn’t try

                but dwell with
                in and wide as
                it is only what is:
                lack of center

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being & depression wormhole: Sandwich
emptiness & identity wormhole: is this it // all the time
space wormhole: clear as vista
time wormhole: when the rain has settled / the dust
writing wormhole: the silent night of the Batman

 

Theo 2005-2018

Theo 2005-2018

 

quarter rag-doll; cupboard-worshipper; community liaison officer overseeing food distribution and consumption; able to leap kitchen worktops with a single bound; visiting Emeritus Pollock Professor of muddy paw-prints in ALL directions on a clean floor; campaigned for ‘YES to ID’ on each bay tree, fridge, back door wall, any old shrub or new piece of furniture encountered; sleeper; biter; guerilla stalker from garden to garden of walks around the block; bemused extra-ordinaire of the curses and bad language of fellow feline colleagues; lover of wool-cardigans, jumpers and blankets (although he could never figure out why they wouldn’t produce milk); side-swipe dis-courager, claw-scrape encourager; shoulder-hugger; pathetic meow-er; proud boy to the back of his (don’t-stop)-stroked head; leaper straight into patio doors (wha’-bwpl-bl-bl-bl, shake-the-head-clear; tweedie birds); thick headed; belly-displayer; practitioner of AWOL without reason or result; Quickburst Scrapper of the Flying-Fur Kind … oh, and did I mention food?

 

succumbed to a tumour, growing in his tongue; prayers are requested for the emergence of his true nature in Sukhavati, Pure Land of Infinite Light;

 

when the rain has settled / the dust

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                so the lay of the day
                sets differently than ago and

                we have to unpack everything
                and decide where it will go

                before we hear naked feet slamp
                on vinyl floor and tile

                before the rainbow hangs
                a curtain between one volcano

                and the next but one, before the
                notes on the text become

                unnecessary-enough to know
                that combustion happens only when

                I-want-things-to-happen and
                when I-do-not-want-things-to-happen

                as before, that new air
                folds through an apartment only

                when the rain has settled
                the dust

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

air wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
feet wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha
holiday wormhole: concordance
living wormhole: Sandwich
rain wormhole: for / the first time
sound wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
study wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
time wormhole: is this it // all the time

 

Sandwich

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                Sandwich

                in the busy café after yet
                another long lapse by stealth –

                “I have the white bread sandwich
                  and the wholemeal bread sandwich” –

                I think I should know better
                by now which I should want

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
depression & living wormhole: is this it // all the time
speech wormhole: Coleton Fishacre

 

river

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                while masts bob about
                the wharfs and warehouses

                fingers that could snap
                towers like cinder toffee

                hover like another reality
                while the left eye

                questions how it came
                to this – wh’, the skyline

                turns to silhouette, a
                thousand windows hold

                dusty light, beams arc
                the night sky but find

                nothing, overlooking the
                lonely promontory on the

                river

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
green & light & night & river & sky & skyline & windows wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
reality wormhole: Jericho
silhouette wormhole: between

 

the silent night of the Batman

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                the silent night of the Batman

                even while they carried their
                gift-wrapped parcels and looked
                to each other with smiles of belief

                the shop signs hummed dark
                against the marbled frontage
                while above, quiet floors of

                clear-dark windows looked east
                looked south in the ink-black sky
                enough to write a novel in a

                single sitting, enough to hold
                a fleet of stars above the skyline
                stacking slowly; when the sky

                is ink-green the rooftop
                gathers ink-blue attention
                and leaps without step or

                swing through the glass and
                ledges of city vista, the lingering
                thought to shadow the guilt,

                the alley to streetlamp the
                fear, and over the river the rose
                cast high and wide to the stars until

                marzipan fingers reach across the
                ink-purple sky and marshmallow lights
                go out

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

attention wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
Batman: cape and cowl
black wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
blue wormhole: out
buildings & people wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
Christmas & stars wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
city wormhole: city streets
glass wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop IV: right angles
green & sky & smile wormhole: looking ahead
light wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
night & writing wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
purple wormhole: pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria
river wormhole: glide
rooftops wormhole: low afternoon
shops wormhole: in the Java ‘n’ Jazz
silence wormhole: is this it // all the time
skyline wormhole: clear as vista
thought & windows wormhole: for / the first time

 

is this it // all the time

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                is this it
                coming again out of the mist

                that in my trust I find I still
                get nowhere that I want to be –

                by the walls along the corridor
                or at the top of silent stairs

                standing on the landing – it
                is not up here after all, nowhere

                else to go …
                is

                it
                this damn mist

                so easy to overlook
                so quiet to breathe

                that I mistake the stones for a figure,
                I fear the rope for the snake, and yet

                this mist will disperse
                the sun will always eventually appear

                I need not wear my collar up
                all the time

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

Bodhichitta wormhole: may the supreme and precious jewel bodhichitta … // … take birth where it has not yet done so … // … where it has taken birth may it not decrease … // … but may it increase infinitely
breathing wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
depression wormhole: to rescue something
emptiness wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
groundlessness wormhole: place
identity & stone wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha
living wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
mist wormhole: while
pointlessness wormhole: is there anything to write?
searching wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
silence wormhole: circuitry
stairs wormhole: currency of generations
sun wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
time wormhole: sweet chestnut
walls wormhole: snapshots about Totnes

 

London refugee march – 120915

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London refugee march – 120915

                                                there are
                                no economic migrants
                within global capitalism
only refugees

                                                you can’t have
                                a free market without fair-dom
                freedom for the mass
is individual

                the dog
                calmly
                sniffed
                this bit
                of road
                that bit
                below the
                plackards
                and the
                whistles
                on a lead
                past the

just too beautiful
                railings and balconies and
                                stucco of Picadilly, sun on the sides showing
                                                all the finial of denial

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

buildings wormhole: glide
capitalism & London wormhole: place
dog wormhole: slightly / uphill
economics wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
justice wormhole: listen willya
people wormhole: passing
politics wormhole: just saying, is all VII: // `spolitical
power wormhole: I turn to wake up
roads wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
sound wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha
sun wormhole: city streets