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                when I try to sit for thirty minutes
lazy in posture lost in attention
                                I feel good nevertheless
because usually once
                at least once
                                probably all the time if I could out my att-
                I’ll find a nugget of pure awake
amidst all the silent posture and focus
                                and labyrinth of small rooms
                                              back and back in the endless book shop

                and later when I stand at the window
                and watch the snow under the lamp post
drive a sheet across everything in the street
                                I realise what a stranger I have been
                                to myself

                I have sat at my book
                                I have stood at the window
                many times in my life
                                I have felt an adrenalin at my core
when I have found what I must be
                                              the relief the plans the vindication …
                this pointlessness            this nothingness of landscape
                                              this enemy
                is put at bay
                                is put in abeyance

                                but ‘what I should be’
                there is the stranger
                                              my pointlessness is my closest friend
                I have been getting it all wrong
I should not ‘be’ anything

                                I should embrace the sheet the fold
                the stop and suspend awhile
                the stick and settle of each moment
as it covers the whole street
                                              no claim
                                but the whole gain





attention wormhole: thar she perched
awareness wormhole: my job
being & identity & sitting & writing wormhole: I am the / luckiest man alive
bookshop wormhole: losing the anxiety
lamp-post wormhole: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get (1973) – tribute
life wormhole: clouds
pointlessness wormhole: here
posture wormhole: when I sit I am the posture
snow wormhole: Saturday
streets wormhole: 1965
windows wormhole: con / firm