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                I fell from myself and
                felt the need
                to build myself up otherwise
                out of anxiety

                every single
                closed-eye assent and
                grapple made on the way down
                left me scabbed and arthritic

                hoping I’d reached the bottom
                or found a ledge
                but who was I really kidding,
                I ceased to be

                every time
                I thought to pause, I passed
                from being a who or a what to
                no more, each time,

                save the legacy I left
                in a life somewhere –
                ‘wha’, whossedhat!’ –
                and the potency I carry

                to some other sorry
                hope like the sack of thorns
                that won’t sit comfortable;
                who is it keeps teaching me

                ‘never look up’?

 

weaving from out of chapter 2, Bodhisattvacharyavatara by Shantideva

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

anxiety wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
being wormhole: ah … // oh … // meanwhile … // … // tha ya ta …
death wormhole: 1966
doing & lifetimes wormhole: so pleased to see you again
identity wormhole: what wounds have you got?
life wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – agricultural show