the bench

Tags

2016, 5*, bench, breeze, Carol, leaf, listening, park, passing, path, sitting, time, trees, waves, woodland

                           the bench

                           we sit
                by the avenue and listen to the trees above blow in
                           waves

                           while
                a single leaf across the path waves like an Indian
                           maybe

 

everything hinges like a plate on a stick if the concentration is held while everything else passes by; and just in case it doesn’t, we’ll hold an Indian head-loll to such an absolute …

 

 

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

bench wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – from arm to nature, doing nothing
breeze & time wormhole: reprieve
Carol wormhole: 35 years ago …
listening & passing wormhole: the // orange rose
park wormhole: one day / in 1956
path wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
sitting wormhole: singsong chant
trees wormhole: child
waves wormhole: balance

 

pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria

Tags

'scape, 2016, 5*, burgundy, butter, communication, gladiolus, green, horizontal, lilac, morning, National Trust, olive, pine tree, purple, Standen, story, time, velvet, white, wisteria

                           pine

            crafted
bourough of uprise through decades
of averted event

                           gladioli

            what are the stories:
chilled petals of lilac from velveted purple
            morning buttercurls from
medicine burgundy?

                           wisteria

            networks
of unconnecting junction
necessary for combed and horizontal trail of olive and green flurry from which to hang the            
            requisite white and tinted
lilac

 

while strolling through the garden one day … at the National Trust house of Standen; I know this is a bit more summery than present-posting, but I just found the piece in a notebook and forgotten I’d written it, so, there …

 

 

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

burgundy wormhole: clouds
communication wormhole: comfy
green & white wormhole: occa / s / i // o / n / a // l // l // y
lilac wormhole: 1968
morning wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
olive wormhole: 1967
purple wormhole: south horizon
time wormhole: darkness

 

Luton // couldn’t make a poem out of it

Tags

'scape, 2016, 4*, airport, cars, crane, Luton, noise, passing, poem, rooftops, streets, walking

                Luton

                I walked up your street
                crescendo roar of access
                and arrival from behind

                me and a crane telescoping
                above the nearest rooftop
                straps hanging languidly

                and uselessly, past running
                engines of pick-up and
                delivery but couldn’t make a poem out of it

 

sorry; can’t resist it … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ydVbn0gMk4

 

 

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

cars wormhole: trying to focus / on walking
crane wormhole: time
passing wormhole: open window
rooftops wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
streets wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
walking wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – agricultural show

 

No

Tags

2016, 3*, allegory, creativity, earth, exhaustion, image, music, parallel, talking to myself, writing

                No

                it’s not all about finding the allegory
                or sustaining the image that parallels
                whatever the song I am listening to

                it’s letting the song lodge its effect in me
                like earth, and writing that; this omnipotent
                excising something ex nihilo stuff is

                so exhausting and unnecessary …

 

 

 

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

creativity wormhole: substance
music wormhole: chartless …
talking to myself wormhole: passing below
writing wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams

 

comfy

Tags

2016, 7*, basement, cafe, career, change, comfort, communication, doing, dream, Karmapa, letting go, lifetimes, past life, realisation, service, smile, thought, time

                comfy

                how did you think
                that I would not know
                what you are doing

                said the Karmapa; of
                course: and I had been
                acting despite that he

                might, so I dropped it
                all like a past life and
                nipped down to the

                dank basement to
                sort things out pursued
                by his head-shake smile;

                carried his drinks
                in the café, carried his
                bags when he carried out

                the stacked dishes before
                I even thought of it,
                simple service with no

                career prospects, all the
                busy and long day until
                things moved on beyond

                all recognition and
                I realised I was wearing
                his slippers; how will I

                get them back to him,
                remembering his lingering
                smile before I acted

 

retirement #4: from a dream had 16th-17th December, written down 171216; the present Karmapa is the 17th recognised incarnation; the sorry tale of Mark Redford and his Teachers; the forwarding ways

 

 

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

career wormhole: monument to vainglory
change wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – … as the new town marches in
communication wormhole: poessay III: jijimuge
doing wormhole: neither nude nor / descending a staircase
dream wormhole: sleep now
leting go wormhole: within
lifetimes wormhole: tired
realisation wormhole: ah … // oh … // meanwhile … // … // tha ya ta …
smile wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
time wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – intemperance

 

Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – intemperance

Tags

1967, 2016, 8*, air, ale, breathing, countryside, earth, field, gaze, ghosts, grandfather, green, honeysuckle, Kent, life, Michael J Redford, noon, nose, quiet, sound, speech, suburbia, summer, Sunday, time

 

                on Sundays my father downed tools and was
                led by the nose – the Redford bequest –

                drawing us into the quietude of Kent,
                out from the crust of suburbia,

                plunged deepening into green
                carrying bags of sandwiches towards noon;

                when, he would gaze around awhile
                and “let’s try over there” as if he were only

                wondering, “landlord’s name is Bert,”
                he’d trail behind quietly to himself, breathing

                even ghosts in through his live and open nostrils
                (back, even, to the seventeenth century,

                 looking out over the tombstones,
                creaking & checking, drinking, ale); taught me

                to fathom honeysuckle
                on a damp summer’s air carrying far before

                the meet, to flare to the earth
                of a muck heap ‘made’ well, to bask

                and loiter by ammoniac stables
                breathing for to clear the head, to “foller yer nose”

                and find the green bean field –
                cup of sweet wine drunk with intemperance –

 

 

read the collected work as it is published: here
this is an appliquiary to: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Follow Your Nose; this piece is, of course, written from the uncle-person singular, therefore his ‘father’ was my Grandfather, who died when I was still a baby – I knew him about as much as a ruffle on the head from on high that I can remember; I have grown familiar with him through Mick’s writings and old pictures I have acquired to try and trick time out of its progress – AND IT SUCCEEDED!

 

 

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air & green & Sunday wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Follow Your Nose
breathing & speech wormhole: ah … // oh … // meanwhile … // … // tha ya ta …
field wormhole: ‘field of corn …’
ghosts wormhole: passersby
life wormhole: passing below
sound wormhole: 1967
time wormhole: time

 

ah … // oh … // meanwhile … // … // tha ya ta …

Tags

2016, 8*, being, breathing, child, clothes, colour, comics, despair, Dorian Gray, emperor, exclamation, exposed, flowers, Granada, hope, identity, inspiration, light, love, mantra, model, phrase, portrait, Prajnaparamita, rain, rainbow, realisation, retirement, secret, seeing, self, self-containment, self-image, speech, step, thread, tragedy, vanity, wandering, words, world

 

 
le mot just
the piquant phrase
                                         the simple model rising magnificent
                                         from cavalcades
                                         of stoic tumbling

                                         threads through like
                                         weave which clothes me
                                         presentable to the world …

                                         but no one sees the
                                         emperor’s clothes of
                                         such fine thread it cannot
                                         be seen, no wise child
                                         to point and exclaim
                                         the hang and drape
                                         to put an end to all step –
                                         “look, mummy, that man
                                           is not an emperor!”

 

 
less than naked
I am seen right through
                                         adrift of discourse
                                         I step with stubborn countenance,
                                         all the better to
                                         stare myself into existence,

 

 
awkward and
hidden away in some attic
                                         lest I lose [what I haven’t
                                         got] self-contained in trembling
                                         vanity, secretive in hope
                                         of things to come, desparate
                                         in tragedy that my grimy
                                         portrait might be seen …

 

 
wander, wander
around the flowers, smell
                                         their colour, breathe their
                                         light and let the light rain
                                         fall in shards of rainbow,
                                         cleansing with love –

 

 

 
                      om     ga – te     ga – te
                                      pa – ra – ga – te
                                                      pa – ra – sam – ga – te
                                                                      bo – dhi     so – ha

 

retirement #3 when in Granada … visit the Alhambra, and visit the Generalife gardens … [if you have booked up to three months ahead]; on the walk up to the palaces are trees and shrubs which are plenty-watered by sprinklers, in the morning sun the sprays will often catch a rainbow at their edge; the bordered captions in the poem are comic-conjunctives, there is a beginning, middle and end being told here, folks; the mantra: thaya tha om gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi soha, is the mantra of Prajnaparamita, the Perfection of Wisdom; it can be somewhat semantically translated as “it’s like this: [everything is] gone, gone, completely gone, completely and perfectly gone with no loss, enlightened [dispersed, dispelled] all-right!”; but what’s ‘gone’: “the slings and arrows of outrageous romance” … of one’s self and the whole world positioned awkward to placate its mewling little story, as stolen by Joni Mitchell, who was talking too much at the time, from ‘Willy the Shake’;

 

 

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

being wormhole: pocket
breathing wormhole: within
child & light wormhole: this aching // and spacious dichotomy
comics wormhole: chartless …
identity wormhole: not / the Catcher
love wormhole: love and precision
rain wormhole: monument to vainglory
realisation wormhole: passing below
seeing wormhole: con / sum / mate
speech wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow
words wormhole: just saying, is all VI: // accountable / for my own outbreath / …
world wormhole: the skyline

 

embodying

Tags

'scape, 2016, 6*, Alahambra, cherub, gods, Granada, passing, people, pigeons, shell, sound, stone, talking, walking, water, waterfall

                constant éclat and smack
                from spout of god or shell

                of cherub avec fraças and
                badinage of flowing passersby

                who pause in declaratory
                language among nodding

                pigeons, lap outwards to
                swell the trough, embodying

                under plinth and pillar
                of warm carved stone

 

 

 

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

passing wormhole: passing below
people & walking wormhole: this sodden land
pigeons wormhole: portrait: / two pigeons
sound wormhole: balance
stone wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
talking wormhole: just saying, is all VI: // accountable / for my own outbreath / …
water wormhole: happen//ing

 

this sodden land

Tags

2016, 5*, doubt, need, people, pointlessness, politics, purposelessness, society, walking

                people arguing cutting
                across each other
                wilful to the others’ needs

                that once were met
                that brought them together
                mire me deeper into

                this sodden land

                stuck where I cannot walk
                doubtful all the time of
                all the purpose of walking

 

 

 

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

people wormhole: beepbeep
pointlessness wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
society wormhole: cut while you’re ahead/cut while you’re a thread – poewieview #35
walking wormhole: 1964

 

not / the Catcher

Tags

2016, 7*, being, Catcher in the Rye, doing, edge, identity, life, momentum, patience, recognition, retirement, Salinger, steering

                and I never wanted
                to be visible from
                the beginning

                always knew that
                was not where I
                act, but in the

                shift that lets
                momentum spend
                but steers

                way before the edge; not
                the Catcher here – much
                much more patient than that

 

retirement #2; having caught my breath a little, there is time, perhaps, to take the despondancy and meld (sic) into it, on an atomic level, what really was lost during all that time?

 

 

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

being wormhole: ‘field of corn …’
doing wormhole: matter
identity & retirement wormhole: monument to vainglory
life wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
recognition wormhole: just saying, is all VI: // accountable / for my own outbreath / …