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                                                                                                                       still there

                                                                                 the hole
                                                                 under the concrete skirt
                                              holding the iron railings upright
                              dividing the conservation ground
                              from the terraced path between houses
                                              the rust of decades bursting through metallic green paint
                                                                 with whole pebbles
                                                                                 under which I’d scrabble

                                                                                 c’mon this way
                                                                                 looking for a shortcut to school
                                                                                 looking for another route to school
                                                                                 always nervous that my head
                                                                                 would get stuck

                above the
                Dallin Road
                allotments
looking high over the river and the city

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

childhood wormhole: across the room / through the patio doors / through the conservatory windows / at the bottom of the garden / the still bifurcated trunk of / the oak / before the let-grown hair and fringes / of the fir tree / blown every lifetime in a while by the winter sun // actually
emergence wormhole: tag cloud poem I – numbers
green & lifetimes wormhole: still waving!
London & Thames wormhole: a riveral
morning & time wormhole: and
Plumstead wormhole: dream / 190599
school wormhole: Teaching career: much like Monet’s ‘Impression: soleil levant’
voices wormhole: I don’t think I could do it anymore

 

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