inexorable and quietly militant naïveté …

the tangles fall apart




                                every once in a while
                                the tangles fall apart
                                and I’ll write and write
                                wherever I are

                                but a lot of the time
                                I’ll try to compose
                                and the knots just get
                                tighter and tighter

                                besides I lost a lot of my hair
                                by my early thirties
                                I have to wear it short now
                                otherwise it looks silly





being & doing & identity & time wormhole: escape from Flat Planet
hair wormhole: is that so!
writing wormhole: start where / you are II


escape from Flat Planet




                                                              escape from Flat Planet

                                                              ugh, must … get good … at
                                              anything … make everything
                                around me – worthwhile

                                – except
                I don’t know what to do
                                              in a life that hides its worth
                                presumed rhetorically
                                experienced missing … hngh, if

                                I …
                                can do … what
                             I can
                exponential [to what I am] maybe,
                just maybe, I will find the right angle
                out of all this seeming plane,
                                                              maybe I could soar the tallest building
                                with a single bound

                                and yet …
                and still decades on
                                I am bound in old borders
                arranged cleverly on a page
                                four-colourful and heroic but still unable
                                              to account for the
                                from which I can swing
                                                              despite all the words of bubble balloon and effect

                                … I have to accept
                being unmasked again and again –
                                              but it is so humiliating …
                                              so much depends upon
                                              my strong arm; don’t you see!!! –
                                … have to become
                                my own secret identity
                                beneath and and all





being & doing wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts
buildings wormhole: up here
comics wormhole: Dr Strange VII – the madness of Mordo
identity wormhole: truly invisible
life & pointlessness & time wormhole: on walking through walls
meaning wormhole: nothing // matters
renunciation wormhole: Tulips by Sylvia Plath – How Far To Step Before You Raise The Other Foot
speech wormhole: let’s have some ice creams
superhero wormhole: Woolwich Central – making life better II
Superman wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
talking to myself wormhole: my life / of others


silhouette: // second / thoughts





                                from the
                brick-laced chimney stacks and piped rooftops
                the streetlight cast a perfect yellow circle
                below around the trash can and rubbish

                but the sure-finned Batmobile shifted in suspension
                cast her headlights up to the right as she
                reversed back around on second





Batman wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
being & doing wormhole: on walking through walls
chimney wormhole: Bodiam Castle
rooftops wormhole: lifetime
silhouette wormhole: September – silhouette of leaf // the / inside and the / outside
streets wormhole: up here
streetlight wormhole: Dionne Warwick
yellow wormhole: To my Mum


on walking through walls




                                on walking through walls

                        expulsion of air starting with a ‘p …’
        … well, hold on a minute
this all sounds a bit grim
                        a bit Byronic-heroic

        and where there’s grim
        there’s usually gritted teeth
        (and pulled ligaments once you get older)
                trying to hold the balance

                        no fun
                        no beauty
                        just flexed jaw
        muscular and tight-lipped
                so enforced in its own sense of dharma-drama that it
                        loses the action
                        for the self that grims it
wandering about in the fog that obscures all direction
                        and perspective
                to balance

                all the while unaware
                                – inhalation with a wide ‘e …’ –
        of the sheer-joy-innocence
                        of the folds on the back
                        of the well-seated chair
        the silence of the swirls on the carpet
                        when last vacuumed
                                        oh yes
and the timelessness of the ticking second hand
        all of the silences
                        in rhythm





awareness wormhole: the art of sit and follow
balance wormhole: – sigh! –
being & letting go wormhole: for goodness’ sake
breath & breathing wormhole: is that so!
doing wormhole: truly invisible
life & time wormhole: 1971
pointlessness wormhole: my life / of others
walls wormhole: good session







                                                          Suzuki Roshi
                                glanced the shaft of light working
                                     slow across his room





1971 wormhole: tag cloud poem I – numbers
death wormhole: ambling around / the garden centre
haiku(esque) wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
life wormhole: truly invisible
light wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
Shunryu Suzuki Roshi wormhole: thinking wide enough
time & windows wormhole: Bodiam Castle


Bodiam Castle



Edward Dalyngrigge made money as a mercenary soldier, fighting endlessly against France, then married Elizabeth, the heiress of the Wardedieu, to build a castle to defend against invasion looking fabulous (oh, and build a wharf on the river Rother to benefit from the trade).   It looks fabulous to this day but has defended only right and privilege.


                                Bodiam Castle

                                view of the world

                                through metre-age
                                of sandstone, so I

                                looked straight up
                                the chimney where

                                perpetual fires no
                                longer burned and

                                saw transluscent leaf
                                lean against blue sky


We live in a much more settled world now, comfortable by our ruined castles and retired landscapes.   The nearest incursions are on the beaches of Tunisia, although there is worry at the port of Calais.




blue wormhole: the art of sit and follow
chimney wormhole: events happen / through all measure of name
green & windows wormhole: good session
power wormhole: bottom of Herbert Road to the / foot of Eglinton Hill dream
river wormhole: let’s have some ice creams
sky wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
society wormhole: any answers
time wormhole: earthed
war wormhole: castrated
world wormhole: nothing // matters


for goodness’ sake




                                   been wrapped up in
                                   sheets and blankets
                                   twisted and sweating
                                   all night now so that
                                   I can hardly move

                                   but then I found I
                                   could just stop
                                   loosen up a little and
                                   eventually wriggle out
                                   for goodness’ sake





anxiety & being & letting go & realisation wormhole: truly invisible
night wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
sleep wormhole: Hypnopompia
thinking wormhole: nothing // matters


truly invisible




                      in my life I carefully and
                      experimentally crafted
                      a ghost with which to be

                      I long-time realised, out of
                      a fog of anxiety, that ghosts
                      do not exist; it was a nice idea –

                      the invisible liberator – but
                      it was never going to get any
                      purchase; let us quietly celebrate

                      the release of myself from all
                      that rattling and dooing and watch
                      as I become truly invisible





anxiety wormhole: Black Rook / in Rainy Weather
being wormhole: earthed
doing wormhole: rather
ghosts wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
giving & life wormhole: my life / of others
identity wormhole: nothing // matters
letting go wormhole: [start where you are III] – delve
realisation wormhole: addicted / compulsive / identity
work wormhole: is that so!






                           to spend a day walking
                           around under wide grey clouds with

                           pastel edges drifting
                           but earthed a hundred times by a shaft of light

                           over silvery grass
                           a thousand times by the scrub grass beneath each nostril





Ashdown Forest wormhole: the utter beauty of giving when receiving
being wormhole: rather
clouds & time & walking wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
grey wormhole: good session
silver wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
smell wormhole: you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out






                                things to do are
                                neither important or
                                not important in themselves

                                other than what we load them with
                                uneven and leaning to one side turning
                                in eventual excuse-me circles but never due west


                                anything to be done is
                                the only thing happening
                                where the hand has slipped

                                deep into the pocket where
                                nothing is done and stays precisely
                                where it is but reaches effortlessly everywhere





being wormhole: start where / you are II
doing wormhole: nothing // matters



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