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                I could do a hundred things a day
                                with art and steer
                or I could get hold of the wrong end of the stick
                                and get it all wrong

                I could say the words that smile like quiet depth charges
                                into peoples’ change of minds
                or I could fumble my pitch and leave people
                                slightly embarrassed

                I could plan for a nation and dance the colour
                                of poetry
                or I could wear down into the same old rut
                                wet-footed and annoyed

                                but by far the
                                best thing I will
                                do today is sit
                                on this cushion
                                straight and only




being wormhole: the zen of grandmothers
doing wormhole: here is a / whiney accumulation of / wisdom
identity wormhole: the posture
sitting wormhole: in a / single / lifetime / sitting