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                           so we arrive
                           encased in the hotel
                           with constant hummm

                           or is it blown air
                           in the walls,
                           between buildings

                           eddying in a
                           pink-salmon sky
                           somewhere searching

                           for something from
                           which to bounce
                           to be; so, what to do in this

                           fair city: as the light falls
                           behind the curtains
                           voices claim and ex

                           and ‘ngaarrh’ and hack-saw-
                           laugh to company echo
                           from paviours and shops front

                           just slightly too late to
                           realise that we are all
                           just lonely, after all





air wormhole: first Spring storm
being wormhole: diligence
buildings wormhole: 1967
city wormhole: bavardage
compassion wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
curtains wormhole: 1968
echo wormhole: Hurst Green
evening wormhole: Michael Redford: triptych
hotel & sky wormhole: the missing chord // the now-silent seagull
pink wormhole: nothing to say
realisation & walls wormhole: Jericho
searching wormhole: and that’s where I are
shops wormhole: words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25
sound & speech wormhole: currency of generations
travelling & voices wormhole: being in love – poewieview #26