almost indefatigable and quietly militant naïveté …

exactly equal




                important to settle gently into sitting
                                              (into doing)
                                not heroically like a superpower but with
                exactly equal to the experience and posture in the cup
                                                                                 on the opposite end
                                                              of the arm





doing & practice wormhole: practice
posture wormhole: ambling around / the garden centre
settling & talking to myself wormhole: recovered
sitting wormhole: now, the verticals go down as well as they go up
superhero wormhole: escape from Flat Planet
superpower wormhole: just words wiped across a line






                           to the space between the ruled lines
                           to let them fill with what they will
                           through my not getting in their way with
                                     syntax and





being wormhole: Office in a Small City, 1953
emptiness wormhole: practice
identity wormhole: disappear
letting go & writing wormhole: “write, let’s break outta here!”






                                I don’t want to be listened to,
I don’t want to be followed or made responsible,
                                              I don’t want to be observed or made an example,
                                I don’t even want to have to own it
                                              with my name all over it,

                                              I would just like to be
                                a part of the dialectic I felt moved to offer
                                              a thousand times
                                                              and disappear
                                                              into the
                                              development it grew


                                                              not apart
                                                              from it





identity & listening wormhole: now, the verticals go down as well as they go up
managerialism wormhole: … anymore
work wormhole: block ‘n’ role


“write, let’s break outta here!”




                                “write, let’s break outta here!”

                      stuck in compromise
                      a-foreclosed, I need to
                      break out, I need to create

                      something strange and
                      beautiful – too hideous to
                      contemplate – and abandon it

                      in order that it digest into
                      my everyday construction,
                      rags around the base of a high, steel wall





beauty wormhole: it is complete
compromise wormhole: block ‘n’ role
creativity wormhole: start where / you are II
depression wormhole: relapse
letting go wormhole: like butterflies on / buddleia
life wormhole: recovered
living wormhole: dream 260815
samsara wormhole: un … able
speech wormhole: … anymore
walls wormhole: mauve / night
writing wormhole: after all?


purple and mauve




                      there is a street view somewhere
                      from the shopfront rooftops at

                      the turn of the season as the
                      evenings gather earlier around

                      streetlights and window displays
                      all wet across the camber of the

                      patchwork tarmac like a cosy
                      sitting room with the damp smell

                      of dinner almost ready somewhere
                      during the mid 1970s when

                      everything began turning
                      purple with mauve with slivers
                      of white and yellow highlight





autumn wormhole: after all?
city & time & windows wormhole: Office in a Small City, 1953
evening wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
mauve wormhole: mauve / night
purple wormhole: dream 260815
rain & rooftops & shops & streetlight & streets wormhole: now, the verticals go down as well as they go up
sitting room wormhole: mlewisredford introductory complete life audit confessional
smell wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting


Office in a Small City, 1953




                                Office in a Small City, 1953

                                sitting back in his chair
                                the architect, exhausted
                                by the detail of the past,

                                sits in the building he has
                                not yet finished designing
                                but satisfied, at least, with the windows





being wormhole: after all?
buildings & city & Edward Hopper wormhole: now, the verticals go down as well as they go up
time wormhole: … anymore
windows wormhole: mauve / night


mauve / night








                                          the tall

                                          a single

                                          howl blew

                                          no one

                                          heard but

                                          turned to

                                          the call in

                                          from all
                                          our various

                                          lives and
                                          back to each

                                          others’ faces
                                          and eyes





eyes wormhole: ‘from under the awning …’
faces wormhole: the Conqueror
lifetimes & walls wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
mauve wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
night wormhole: for goodness’ sake
others wormhole: recovered
silence wormhole: my life / of others
talking wormhole: dream 230315
white wormhole: three musicians
windows wormhole: 1963


now, the verticals go down as well as they go up




                now, the verticals go down as well as they go up

                                the form of
                                is drawn
                                by rain

                                merely cast
                                the silhouettes
                                of dawn

                                in the 70s
                                and the 80s
                                the shops
                                opened late

                                like Hopper

                                sleet down
                                an alley when
                                there are things
                                to be done

                                (cab waiting
                                with the meter
                                running) but
                                when it snows

                                it is time to sit
                                on a ledge and
                                listen to all the
                                muffled sound

                                below; lighted
                                billboards and
                                the uplit facades
                                of monoliths

                                above the
                                chimney stacks,
                                only when
                                sprung from

                                girders can you
                                hang foetus-like
                                above the roof-
                                tops; let all the

                                striving height
                                recede back
                                to the ground
                                it stands from

                                assassins and
                                bounty hunters
                                proceed colourful
                                and silent by the

                                dark rooftops
                                of old town
                                suburbia, only
                                the blind devils

                                leap the burning
                                awnings more
                                bright than day,
                                where only one

                                will notice from
                                the street, and
                                yet the fantastic
                                storeys of

                                building rise
                                behind all

                                borough, seen
                                but not heard;
                                except for the
                                litter of paper

                                trailing the collateral
                                dance across tarmac
                                and paviours, hardly
                                noticed, but ever indulged





buildings wormhole: dream 260815
chimney wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts
city wormhole: Morning in a City, 1944
dawn & orange wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
Edward Hopper wormhole: Summertime, 1943
identity & streets wormhole: ‘from under the awning …’
rain wormhole: open window
rooftops wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925
seeing & sound wormhole: after all?
shops wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
silhouette wormhole: 1959
sitting wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47
snow wormhole: To my Mum
streetlight wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting


‘from under the awning …’




                           from under the awning
                           the sun along the street

                           always so much redefining
                           space between people

                           and their thoughts passing
                           underneath their eyes





Brighton wormhole: good session
coffee shop wormhole: is that so!
eyes wormhole: recovered
identity & passing wormhole: after all?
people wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
streets wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
thought wormhole: sitting






                I am not
                recovered from the
                hollow purpose of life
                that makes my neck crick
                and my hair fall out that droops
                my mouth and hangs my liquid eyes
                to gaze above the heads for hope and see

                                that no one else is either at the garden café





eyes wormhole: three musicians
hair & mouth wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
life wormhole: Sunday afternoon
others & talking to myself wormhole: after all?
pointlessness wormhole: now, have I forgotten anything
realisation wormhole: lo
settling wormhole: the stance of Buscema // qualitatively


the hour of soft light...

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