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                        didn’t know what
                        to do when I was eight

                        I gave things my best shot
                        but no one seemed to notice
                        (except when things went wrong)

                        now I don’t put out as much (as I can
                        get away with) because it confirms to me
                        in deed that I still do not know what to do but

                        that’s alright, Markie, that’s alright, at least you’ve
                        grown now to learn, through all that breathing, that things
                        happen because you are there, the moreso that you notice them than do





attention & awareness & breathing wormhole: prologue
being & childhood & doing & emergence & life wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
child wormhole: tag cloud poem IV – C
divorce wormhole: someone called Frank
growth wormhole: the sounds the difficulty and the long long strands of liquorice
identity wormhole: 1966
living & settling wormhole: no quota too empty / no fate to fulfil
recognition wormhole: that’s me / in the corner that’s me in the spot light / losing my religion*