what wounds have you got?

Tags

'scape, 2010, 5*, breakdown, career, depression, ghosts, identity, results-led education, self, snow, sound, teaching, voices, wind

                           part V

I have been in, but not part of, the stadium for such a long time
it is here, all about and above, creaking, flapping, I
had thought it didn’t exist at all; it is cardboard and canvas
standing up against the inevitable winds, and snow

so much construction, so little structure, so little warmth
it is cold here in this quiet wasteland, but I sit
to one side now – out of the way – and shut my ears
to the noises and voices.   I still have a lamp.   I try

to keep warm by it.   I can’t see them – out in the night
and cold – are there any other souls lost, out there?
Come and join me over here.   If we sit together
I can get quite a lot of heat from this lamp.   Let’s see –

what wounds have you got?

 

since this was written and published years ago I have subsequently and finally retired … from being the ‘ghost with open wound‘; I am now, just cold

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

breakdown wormhole: monument to vainglory
career & teaching wormhole: everwhile
depression wormhole: beepbeep
ghosts wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – intemperance
identity wormhole: ah … // oh … // meanwhile … // … // tha ya ta …
results-led education & voices wormhole: just saying, is all VI: // accountable / for my own outbreath / …
snow & sound wormhole: open window
wind wormhole: time

 

even / a second

Tags

2010, 5*, being, breathing, letting go, life, living, others, people, ritual, sitting, society, time

 

 

 

                                                                each day
                each minute

                           so washed and tided by
                           refrains and rejoinders
                           day- & night-time opera
                           with so many scenes
                           and actors and subplots
                           undirected anarchic
                           but ritualised and social

 

                                                                no time
                to step out

                           into the foyer, breathe
                           a little but then just
                           stopping & sitting
                           & breathing for even
                           a second would be
                           a satisfying ending
                           before the credits roll

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

being & sitting & time wormhole: magnetic field
breathing wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – moment
letting go wormhole: zero
life & society wormhole: Doctor Strange III – the needs of billions
living wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Introduction
others wormhole: my seat // now
people wormhole: reaching branch

 

zero

Tags

2010, alchemist, being, burden, doing, ideas, identity, letting go, practice, rishi, significance, sitting, sublime, superhero, talking to myself, wisdom, zero

 

 

 

                                                                                      I think I am zero
                                                                         when I do nothing
                                                              so I do things
                                                              like a Superhero
                                                                         like an Alchemist
                                                                                      like a Rishi but

                                                              I am ever-only and
                                                                         going-to-be an
                                                              Occasional Good Idea
                                                                         a Jumpy Quest after Sublime;

                                                cast it all adrift and
                                                let it sink –

                                                this Mark Redford
                                                that I do is such a
                                                burden –

                                I am significant
                                wise and right

                                                because

                                I am zero

                I am Fine
                As I Am

                                Occasionally

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

being & identity & superhero wormhole: balancing // with a whole lot of deft
doing & practice wormhole: diligence
letting go wormhole: Jericho
sitting & talking to myself wormhole: bloogying

 

dash

Tags

2010, adapting, being, detachment, doing, humour, living, openness, professionalism, writing

 

 

 

                                              dash

                my
                                best days
                                loose simple
                                              go as they happen happy heart

                                everything
                                              greeted
                                              like a friend
                                                              with humour
                                                              with deftness
                                                              with writing

                                                              but not riding
                                rough over things happening to get ‘same place, same time’
                                                uncomplicated
                                                & professional

                                                              just respond
                                                                                 then run
                                                                                              far far away

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

being & writing wormhole: like ink – poewieview #23
doing wormhole: true nature
living wormhole: rhymed
openness wormhole: Summertime, 1943
professionalism wormhole: dear clown’s face

 

1967

Tags

1967, 2010, apartment, Christmas, city, light, mauve, morning, Nick Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D, walls, white, windows, years

 

 

 

                                1967

                                from the 17th floor
                                apartment the
                                mauve wall the
                                white up-turned
                                bowl and the
                                not-yet-dressed
                                Christmas tree
                                standing over
                                the city
                                morning
                                lights

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

Christmas & light wormhole: Christmas lights / around the lamp post
city & mauve & morning wormhole: purple and mauve
walls wormhole: “write, let’s break outta here!”
windows & years wormhole: 1963

 

sit

Tags

2010, abandonment, ageing, Batman, bedroom, being, biography, birthday, books, border, branches, cape, carpet, cars, Catcher in the Rye, childhood, children, comics, compassion, counting, cowl, crying, Dad, divorce, father, flower, fog, fracture, French, green, guru, history, house, identity, image, leaf, life, living room, lyric, marriage, moonlight, Mum, music, night, numbers, parents, pattern, planets, posture, power, Salinger, self-compassion, sentient beings, settee, shadow, sitting, skyline, speech, stone, sunlight, superhero, Superman, surrealism, talking to myself, teaching, wife, world, writing, yin yang

 

 

 

                           I stared at the pattern of the carpet
                           driving my cars behind the settee
                           while my parents said final things
                           to each other; the twirl of the branches

                           a better life, the curl of a flower;
                           you’d better go, the border; and
                           never step back in this house again,
                           the shadow of the leaf is also a

                           darker green; I had never studied
                           the pattern before – never had to,
                           never could – I can work it out now,
                           see how it repeats; I think something

                           is happening with Mum and Dad
                           on the other side of the settee; but
                           this pattern continues around the
                           whole carpet, around the whole room;

                           only later – in bed – is it announced
                           what I had already known, and only
                           then could I ask why does it have to
                           happen to us and cry; only when it

                           was announced, only when it was
                           expressed; I had already known
                           but I could only count the patterns,
                           I could only drive the cars; and

                           as I cried, I was numb – pattern
                           before settee – I could fracture
                           from the world, just find a pattern;
                           you’re the man of the house now,

                           someone said to me, so I studied
                           the pages of comicbooks – patterns
                           of power, solving under cowl,
                           jumping under cape, between the

                           skyline and the world: I shall
                           throw stones high, until they
                           don’t come down; I shall dig so low
                           that no one could follow, no;

                           I shall count all numbers; I shall
                           collect all numbers; I shall
                           discover all planets; I shall adopt
                           the posture of heroes, no; I shall

                           number the histories; I shall weave
                           the texture of music; I shall taste
                           the shock of lyric; I shall smell
                           the books, no; I shall sunlight

                           the chorus; I shall cry the biography;
                           I shall see the image, and write them
                           into existence, yes; I shall follow
                           the curl and the twist and the twirl

                           under moonlight all the night long;
                           then, I shall play catch in the rye;
                           I shall alors les boulevards; I shall
                           yin the old yang; I shall surreal in

                           the fog; I shall honour my guru
                           I shall marry my wife; I shall father
                           my children; I shall teach in those classes –
                           but forty two years on, he had still

                           just left; and I still didn’t know how
                           to be the man; time to get out from
                           behind the settee, take a seat with
                           all the others, and
                                                  just
                                                  sit there with them all awhile

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

abandonment & divorce wormhole: … back to the outbreath
Batman wormhole: zok! and pow!
bedroom & Dad wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
being & identity & talking to myself & world & writing wormhole: out!
books wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
branches wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
carpet wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47
cars wormhole: after all?
childhood & music wormhole: fantasia
comics wormhole: Detective Comics #345
compassion wormhole: de Boeddha // of light
father wormhole: sight / seeing
fog wormhole: my life / of others
green wormhole: three musicians
history wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
house wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925
life & speech wormhole: “write, let’s break outta here!”
living room wormhole: Woolwich Central – making life better II
Mum wormhole: dream 230315
night wormhole: mauve / night
posture & sitting & superhero wormhole: exactly equal
power wormhole: the continental stride of trains
shadow & teaching wormhole: … anymore
skyline wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
stone wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
Superman wormhole: escape from Flat Planet

 

prayer to my self

Tags

2010, adjustment, anger, breath, care, career, dedication, discovery, dream, injustice, legacy, letting go, life, light, listening, moon, others, prayer, reputation, self, space, talking to myself, tragedy, vindication, work

 

 

 

                                prayer to my self

                                I had my stab at life – obdurate and rarefied –
                                I glimpsed the moon and captured its light
                                but nobody wanted it

                                let the tragedy go, let the injustice go
                                let the anger and indignation go
                                they are not the self

                                let the devastating ripostes before whole crowds go
                                let the overlooking and insignificance go
                                they are not the self

                                let the secret work and its Discovery – the Legacy – go
                                let the live-on-with-open-wounds-and-dejection go
                                let the career and the reputation go
                                they are all not the self

                                let there be the space from where all of this came
                                to let go and adjust, let there be the breath for new dreams
                                and the listening to declare, the pause for resolution
                                and the care to let go

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

breath wormhole: the Conqueror
career wormhole: the stance of Buscema // qualitatively
dedication wormhole: dedication
dream wormhole: dream 260713
letting go wormhole: lo
life wormhole: the endless acts of life
light wormhole: of a sudden // all the time
listening & talking to myself wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
moon wormhole: up here
others wormhole: good looking
space wormhole: fall
vindication wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
work wormhole: I do

 

1971

Tags

1971, 2010, death, haiku, life, light, Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, time, windows, years

 

 

 

                                           1971

                                                          Suzuki Roshi
                                glanced the shaft of light working
                                     slow across his room

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

1971 wormhole: tag cloud poem I – numbers
death wormhole: ambling around / the garden centre
haiku(esque) wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
life wormhole: truly invisible
light wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
Shunryu Suzuki Roshi wormhole: thinking wide enough
time & windows wormhole: Bodiam Castle
years wormhole: 1963

 

the stance of Buscema // qualitatively

Tags

2010, being, breathing, career, doing, identity, John Buscema, learning, life, markbook, marriage, meaning, parenting, poetry, settling, talking to myself, teaching, tragedy, vanity, world, writing

 

 

 

                the stance of Buscema

                                I build the marriage
                                I raise the kids
                                I teach the pupils
                                without much intending to
                from day to day without plan without scope and sometimes, even, badly
                                because that’s all I do
                                when I just breathe

                                I write the poems
                                I create the markbooks
                                I structure the step and tick of learning with plans to rule the world
                but no one gets it and no one notices
                                because it’s all that I do
                                to make sense of the world just
                                for me

                                bah,
                away with the vanity and empty élan
                                              but; no, rather
                                that I should breathe and step the vainglory qualitatively with the
                                              whole sense of being
                                                              that I
                                                              truly am

 

John Buscema (1927 – 2002) drew like a languid opera – his posture for to conjure such stuff as dreams are made from

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

being & identity & life & settling & talking to myself & writing wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
breathing & world wormhole: [start where you are III] – delve
career & meaning & teaching wormhole: Totnes
doing wormhole: … back to the outbreath
learning wormhole: the Apple
markbook wormhole: fly
poetry wormhole: start where you are I

 

1959

Tags

1959, 2010, economics, legs, muse, portrait, shops, silhouette, society, white, years

 

 

 

                                   1959

                           she stood like a Butterick
                                   sketch
                           fluffy shoulders and pointed
                                   legs
                           in white although silhouetting
                           before the whiter electric goods
                                   store

                           while Amory held his head

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

economics wormhole: the 20th century
muse wormhole: [start where you are III] – delve
shops & years wormhole: 1972
silhouette wormhole: September – silhouette of leaf // the / inside and the / outside
society wormhole: prologue-ing
white wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile