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                                the wide-open
                recreational green in town had beige and bright green
                circles and squares and oblongs obliquely occupying
                                the perimeters

                                and the centre,
                a rattling string-of-lights spaceship had come visit
                variously revolving and blinking, relaying energy
                while its engine idled strange music all wondrous
                                to behold

                                the people came
                and applied hard-earned pieces of metal and one morning
                the ship was gone as if nothing had happened but if you
                listen closely to all the trees standing square around the breezes
                they saw it all, they’ll tell you, where else did those marks
                                come from!





beige wormhole: 1963
breeze wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”
green wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
light wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
money wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Olly
morning & trees wormhole: morning sun
music wormhole: strain
people wormhole: prelude: // travel
sound wormhole: ‘quick – she’s gone to pay …’