with each miss, I find my place
with each ad, I play some more
with each venture, I diminish
until the far side of town is my mineral self
where my breaths waft across the skyline entropic
to their exponential growth until plagues seem quite feasible
now
All the Madmen of the Saviour Machine collapsed into a rogue card with which you could do anything if you let the rules allow … if you let the rules allow
Read the collected movements in David Bowie: Movements in Suite Major
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
Bowie & identity & society wormhole: a theremin note – poewieview #21
breath wormhole: organ / sunlight in all our eyes – poewieview #11
capitalism wormhole: 20th century
power wormhole: top table
skyline wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
mlewisredford 
Thank you for the ride
“With each miss I find my place”
Could be anything
like my life
likely
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… like anyone’s life who finds their identity through defining themselves from what didn’t work; there is wisdom in those who know it – a resultant identity
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yep, you are most interesting. All people are, yet these are my favorite company.
I enjoy riding with your service into space and non space. Feeling the shape your tools work me into mold my day pour into words and wonder.
Like spice
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… like turmeric; spill any of that stuff and it permanently stains/colours whatever it lands on?
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and flavors it, delights and nurtures it. so like curry
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… with sultanas!
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you betcha!
minimally adorned
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Hey! You’re ‘live’ – how have you been ‘defining’ since you turned 42?
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quietly : )
i love falling through the trapdoors in your constructions. makes me imagine you are doing amazing.
you are right?
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… still going through divorce proceedings with my career, agreed separation didn’t work out; it’s going to come down to alimony and maintenance – but I always knew I was write
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i was write. : )
so you choose
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… try telling that to the plaintiff – “will no one think of the children!!!”
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you are the only one who can give your children a happy father.
I rest my case
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… the thing is: I can’t get into the classroom anymore, not without descending further into obliged anonym
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Not sure what opens the window when a door is closed…it might just be whatever makes poetry…
Was that a door I just heard slam?
What a nice view through that high window
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please define obliged anonym
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for me : )
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‘obliged anonym’: when your work is blanded out into ‘the greater good’ in the name of ‘professionalism’ even though it is measured ‘adequate’ all-the-while missing the poetry of what I was practising in the first place and, by the way, could I make sure my top button is done up, in future
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Was refering to the she. Not being over dressed. Unaware that such a thing as a top button exsists. : )
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… it doesn’t, but when it’s done up it gives the impression that it does
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Isn’t that what you want out of impressions of good but not really?
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I’d rather breathe
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Note: top buttons for men are part of that obliged anonym thing.
Some difficult things are nessesary. Usually it brings life into being or buries the dead with honor. The soul thrives here. Greater good is worth it. But what “greater good is the question. How great is the good? Whom is the greater? If it’s not capitalized. Don’t buy it.
Fear is not a greater good now is it.
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the ‘greater good’ is usually the criteria for someone else’s career that need to make it look like something is being achieved; besides, when I’m cognitively working kids through their education I don’t need my top button done up, and neither do they
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Yep
Precisely
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I’m thrilled. Always have been that you know what education feels like. If you aren’t there anymore maybe it’s someone else’s turn and your turn to something else.
Nothing compares to a teacher or a lover who want to be there. Oposite is true too
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True enough; I’m gradually coming to terms with this
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