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                                it was in the garden where it all started
                                it is always in the garden where it all

                                starts (… save the living room at night
                                tracking the movement of the moon,

                                of course); the brick and clay of
                                Genesta Road*, earth to the ghosts

                                of Eglinton Hill*: the floorboards echo
                                with open doors where Ginsberg once

                                visited in a dream to exorcise the
                                emptiness, with all due and sober

                                consideration, clearing the morning
                                mist better to glimpse the girl who

                                suggests the secret (following the line
                                of her unknowing stare) giving the

                                clues to the green space found between
                                cracks in the glass (still holding plane

                                with no attendant shatter) where it
                                is rumoured the gold is to be found

                                between the edges of the blades of
                                grass that once were grey from the

                                groundlessness out from which
                                they had sought their growth


* Genesta Road, Eglinton Hill – childhood houses




[Allen] Ginsberg & emptiness & time & writing wormhole: living mystery / murder theatre
childhood wormhole: Christmas
doors wormhole: Dr Strange IV – ellipses
dream wormhole: ‘anyway / is it all just / a dream?’
Eglinton Hill & garden wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 290508 – / the breath of London
emergence & night wormhole: dawn
Genesta Road & looking wormhole: glass
ghosts wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
girl wormhole: knees
giving wormhole: career came to naught …
glass & green & grey wormhole: new year’s eve 2014; train up to London to / walk the bridges across the Thames, and / listen to the voices say it is, and was, like, / but get back home before the fireworks / obliterate it all in the emptying twilight
gold wormhole: Kirby’s landscapes
grass wormhole: bass and piano
groundlessness wormhole: 1963
living room wormhole: great underbelly to the rooftops
mist wormhole: born again
moon wormhole: moon
morning wormhole: lobby
open wormhole: 1967
space wormhole: Batman#175
tag cloud poem wormhole: tag cloud poem VII – form new freedom:
windows wormhole: Buddha Amitabha