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my career – teaching minds to follow through their own thought –
died on the morning of 121212.   It was twenty five years old.

it had been suffering from the degenerative effects of the
humanomanagerialasphyxia virus for at least eleven years

it fought the illness bravely in frozen anger up to the very last minute
but succumbed while getting ready for work when the kettle came to the boil

it came undignified in long hiccupped lines of “I can’t do this anymore”
a few battered heads against the cupboards in anger that it should come to this

and finally crouching foetal in the corner by the sink face
cracked heartbeat held until the next inhalationnnn____________________________


                I am in mourning now – lost seconds where I realise
                I will not breathe in the same way anymore

                I will not lob the thought or fence the field
                or hold the bridge or improvise vision or applaud

                or note or remember or give a new world
                or hold the eyes looking out of the cave

                with a slight smile





breakdown wormhole: the Mark Redford Problem
career wormhole: really?
death wormhole: slipstream
kitchen wormhole: ‘my Dot …’
life wormhole: realisation
lifetimes wormhole: zen against / the window
managerialism & teaching wormhole: ‘if you want to rely on me …’
speech wormhole: so lonely