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2014, autumn, being, breath, cars, duty, finding, found, glimpse, identity, journey, leaf, lost, mantra, others, passing, poetry, quiet, seeing, self, service, sound, streetlight, talking to myself, tarmac, writing
is it really worth me writing isn’t it
just finding wisps and glimpses
between which to find the outline
of my wan and piquant poetic self
no great find and no great journey
wouldn’t I be better found lost in
duty and service to the others
I seek to identity myself sic from
defined by all common denominator
factored through by breath and mantra
to find the being before the breath and
after the sound or is there a self
nevertheless to be recognised in the
scrape of dried leaf under streetlight
across the tarmac the first to herald
autumn business and quietly passing cars
after all?
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
autumn wormhole: under silent direction of architecture
being wormhole: Morning in a City, 1944
breath wormhole: Summertime, 1943
cars wormhole: along
identity & sound wormhole: … anymore
others & talking to myself wormhole: it is complete
passing wormhole: 1963
poetry wormhole: like butterflies on / buddleia
quiet wormhole: Sunday afternoon
seeing wormhole: wriving
streetlight wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
writing wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
mlewisredford 
the search for self – for the worth of what one does with words …
it is a challenge…
but, I appreciate your poetic self, and I think many of us see/find ourselves in places like fallen leaves, wisps of smoke in the air — perhaps that’s part of the gift of the poetic self: the ability to see the self in unexpected places.
of course, it’s entirely possible i read your poem wrong 🙂
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‘reading’ and ‘finding’ – yes, ‘wrong’ – never
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There are as many readings as other poets, and people, and it’s good to remember that. But I think mine is somewhere in the neighborhood of John’s. No great find, no great journey, that could be a relief!
Losing the self in service to others can exist side by side with losing the self, maybe even as you’re defining it, in art. I hope so anyway.
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