I’ve lost the needle that settles
between grooves and plays the circling music
on fluff the arm skates across the ridges
making awful rip of a career
it skints along a ridge edge – wedges in,
bounces out – a scratch to repeat
against all reasonable hope that it might not;
I cannot hear the pops and crackles,
the greeting space before the
opening strain, awaiting nudity
retirement #7: Virginia Woolf’s first novel was ‘the Voyage Out’; she wrote much of it as she experienced two breakdowns and a number of stark bereavements; this is not a trip to venture and return, this is a discovery to venture and change; so much changes between generation, within and across lives, the further you travel the deeper you stay where you are; read the whole sequence: in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
breakdown & retirement wormhole: what wounds have you got?
career wormhole: seen but not heard
identity wormhole: brown corduroy shirt / and dark redwine tie
music wormhole: within
openness wormhole: 1968
sound wormhole: ssreet chak-chak
