‘God, who am I …?’

Tags

2014, 20th century, 7*, distance, faces, girls, history, horizon, identity, library, lost, madness, motion, Nightmare, presence, progress, reading, sitting, sun, sunlight, Sylvia Plath, talking to myself, TH Huxley, thought

picked over, cajoled, placed this way and that, gazed at the upper corner of the room, and eventually written from entry 33. of The Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962; Plath wrote this, I merely … Plath wrote this, but the failure is mine, all mine, I tellsya!

                God, who am I?
                I sit in the library tonight
                the lights whirring
                girls everywhere
                reading books
                faces

                And I sit here without identity
                There is history to comprehend
                before I sleep

                Yet back at the house
                there is my room
                full of my presence
                There is my date this weekend:
                believes I am human –
                only indication that I am whole
                not merely a knot
                without identity –

                I’m lost!
                Huxley would have laughed
                What a conditioning this is!
                Hundreds of faces
                beating time along the edge of thought

                a nightmare
                no sun
                only continual motion
                If I rest inward
                I go mad

                There is so much
                in different directions
                pulled thin
                against horizons too distant to reach

                To stop with the German tribes
                and rest awhile: but no!
                On, on, on, through ages of empires
                ceaseless pace
                Will I never rest in sunlight again?

 

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: 20th century
faces wormhole: jump start
history wormhole: tragic and archival
horizon wormhole: twilight / and parasols down / within minutes
identity wormhole: between
reading wormhole: reating & wriding
sitting wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
sun & Sylvia Plath wormhole: concordance
talking to myself wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket
thought wormhole: divergent // direction

 

Advertisements

20th century

Tags

2013, 20th century, 4*, beach, Have, progress, waves

                20th century

                spreading wide over
                the flat beach each

                wave mad-scampering
                like crawling fingers

                to damp new-sand but
                never swashing back

 

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: Virginia
beach wormhole: a crack of lightning / in the dark of night
Have wormhole: prelude: // travel
waves wormhole: wasted –

 

Virginia

Tags

2017, 20th century, 5*, chess, inside, retirement, society, teaching, thought, Virginia Woolf, writing

                                              Virginia wanted
                                to dispense with tale-tell-all
                rough-carved and ugly in ungainly moves
                                across the cornered chessboard

                                              but what
                                of the train of thought she thought
                as more essential than denouement
                                and in and in she went

 

retirement #9: I understand this much: that Virginia Woolf was nurtured in, but wanted to bridge out from, the more of [patriarchal] social imperialism; it has waited this long for me to appreciate her need and courage whilst emerging from the more of unattributable results/problem-solving-backwards managerialism in what should be public (not political, not (someone’s) personal (career)) service (not done-deal) into retirement, in an era when it all seems to be lurching horribly right again; read the whole sequence as it extricates itself from customs: in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: to rescue something
retirement wormhole: strain
society wormhole: darkness
writing wormhole: brown corduroy shirt / and dark redwine tie

 

to rescue something

Tags

2017, 20th century, 7*, anxiety, blue, chair, childhood, Dad, depression, dining room, divorce, Eglinton Hill, family, feeling, Genesta Road, great aunt Mary, life, purpose, talking, Thames, visit, windows, World War

                Mary came to visit one year,
                I think before Dad left, sense

                of anxiety and visitation to
                get things right; we gathered

                in the dining room, she sat
                regal in one of those blue

                wing-back chairs to one side
                of the fireplace; they talked

                of things and the way things
                were while the war built up

                and the way things are now,
                we crawled about under the

                legs of the chairs while they
                talked, through the tunnels

                to rescue something with
                several teddies in tow; we

                kept one of those blue chairs
                when we moved, I remember

                sitting in it feeling the coarse
                knap and the horsehair stuffing

                in the lonely bedroom with
                my back to the high windows

                anxious about the purpose
                to do with my life … is

 

quite naturally, but unforseeably, this was written quite considerably, and apocryphally, after: green-wine, but then everything knits together eventually

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: ‘hope for things to come’
anxiety wormhole: ‘never look up’?
blue wormhole: occa / s / i // o / n / a // l // l // y
childhood & Dad & divorce & Thames wormhole: south horizon
depression wormhole: what wounds have you got?
Eglinton Hill wormhole: alighted
family wormhole: familiasyncopation
Genesta Road wormhole: work
life wormhole: darkness
talking wormhole: embodying
windows wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams

 

‘hope for things to come’

Tags

'scape, 2016, 20th century, 4*, bay window, buildings, Eastbourne, grey, history, hope, life, looking, promise, rooftops, shops, storey, time, white

                     stories above shop fronts look
                     outwards bay and grey, their white

                     capped finials preserved in spike
                     for the due middle between the

                     beginning of ground floor promise
                     and the rooftop end of ‘hope for things to come’

 

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: Doctor Strange II – … things are the same again
buildings & history wormhole: listen willya
Eastbourne wormhole: the missing chord // the now-silent seagull
grey wormhole: carpet worn / to the backing – poewieview #30
life wormhole: what life went on
looking & time wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – from arm to nature, doing nothing
rooftops wormhole: 1967
shops wormhole: constant hummm
white wormhole: trellis / and wisteria – poewieview #29

 

Doctor Strange II – … things are the same again

Tags

2012, 20th century, age, anatta, beauty, belief, chaos, consolidation, consumerism, Dormammu, Dr Strange, emptiness, Have, health, heart, life, power, society, thought, wealth, world

 

the last few lines from Doctor Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street without which the title [and the poem] of Doctor Strange II … will not make much sense; I post these works in anticipation of the Doctor Strange movie which is due to be released this November/October …

                                                                                 the face in the orb implied                
                                that everything had changed and that
                                                              things
                would never be the same again

 

 

                                                              II

                                … things are the same again
                                              always have
                                              always had
                                                              the second half of the twentieth century
                                incorporated it
                                                              you either had it or you wanted it
                                              either way it fed the corporation
                                              everyone fed the corporation
                                                                                 by wealth by health
                                                                                                            by belief
                                                              this is the way things are
                                                                                 dwelt at the very heart of the world
                                                                                                            turning growing fiery
                                there comes a time
                                              when the power and the beauty
                                                                                 become elliptical
                                                                                 to each other
                                                              to themselves
                                                                                                            then chaos will come                
                                              you mark my words
                                thinks the aged Genghis high on the edge of the world
                                                              aged enough in life
                                              to see beyond the self:                                there is nothing there
                there is nothing there

 

Anyhoo, I wrote a series of poems tracking Doctor Strange through a key set of issues written by Steve Englehart and drawn by Gene Colan; (Dr Strange #6-13 (Feb 1975-April 1976)); these issues are some of the best comics I have ever read; they were also seminal in shaping me to become the significantly un-noticeable writer I have become to this day; I posted them in 2012 and then re-posted them again in 2014 because I thought the film was immanent – it wasn’t; but, dammitall, I like these babies so I’m going to post them again, spread out until November 4th …

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: B le tch l ey P ark
beauty wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – A Precious Moment
Dr Strange wormhole: my / superpower
emptiness wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – moment
Have wormhole: my seat // now
life wormhole: tiling
power wormhole: tired
society wormhole: the / bright yellow / world
thought & world wormhole: Elektra

 

B le tch l ey P ark

Tags

1960s, 1980s, 2016, 20th century, Bletchley Park, blink, cable, change, children, chimney, colour, communication, culture, data, Edwardian, elbow, ethic, Europe, eyes, grain, Have, history, hotel, ink, knowledge, legacy, living, Luton, marble, meaning, metal, militarism, mind, night, pattern, poem, point, politics, possibility, power, railtrack, rhythm, smell, smile, society, sound, story, subversion, table, the British Empire, thought, time, timetable, typewriter, veins, windows, wood, World War, writing

 

 

 

                                B  le  tch l  ey      P   ark

                                Edwardian fingers pointed
                                from military sleeve the way
                                in and the way through

                                while some knew that a W
                                will never return a W and
                                we will henceforth return

                                to a following possibility of
                                change, the veins in marble
                                cladding and the grain in

                                parquetry floor were no
                                longer décor of legacy but
                                cover for subversion – smiling

                                minds up in front of chimney
                                stacks – no, now, platted
                                and inflexible cable linked

                                lozenges of releasing code
                                (no-longer-just-location)
                                in patterns of levered ratchet

                                across European divide; no more
                                the flurry scratch of ink across
                                blotted paper with fortitude

                                and Empire wile, now the
                                erstwhile sturdy tables were
                                anchored by elbow and fallen

                                eye gazed at shifting pattern,
                                now the heat of metal and
                                ribbon made the ink fume

                                like acid; now was the time
                                of proletariat genius as tape
                                connected the diagonals and

                                metal frame softened and
                                bent in constant hold;
                                now the colour was splashed

                                and the ethic was learned
                                and the story is told to the
                                schoolchildren who – blink

 

visit, 260416, pages of scribbled notes; the poem sifted and shifted until a pattern formed and simultaneously dispersed, across time; in the hotel room in Luton right next to the rail-line which slingshot-ricochet’d passing trainsnotstopping in the window one side, out the window the other, all night and all of the day, in timetable but not necessarily rhythm

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: impressionism
change wormhole: Doctor Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
chimney wormhole: hinged – From Hell ch. V
communication wormhole: Nostalgia for Samsara – poewieview #16
eyes & Have & history & hotel & time wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
knowledge wormhole: 1963
living wormhole: need
meaning wormhole: quite … / … yet – poewieview #12
mind wormhole: becoming
night & society wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
power wormhole: top table
politics wormhole: dear clown’s face
smell wormhole: when writing // stay
smile & thought wormhole: while walking
sound wormhole: 1965
table wormhole: 1964
windows wormhole: mauve
wood wormhole: quick inventory after coffee
writing wormhole: words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25

 

impressionism

Tags

'scape, 1878, 1880, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1892, 1901, 1935, 19th century, 2015, 20th century, appearence, beer, being, blue, cafe, chair, cypress, decision, doors, Edouard Manet, Edouard Vuillard, emerald, field, garden, glasses, hair, impressionism, leaf, living, looking, mass, passing, Paul Cezanne, people, photograph, posture, profile, rock, shadow, skyline, sound, speech, survival, turquoise, van Gogh, view, writing

 

 

 

                      impressionism

                      when it appeared that being
                      took more than looking
                      to survive in grander scale

                      people froze in pose of living
                      and, standing, turned from the
                      emerald skyline and blue of leaf

                      until the ‘chirrup’-click
                      fit to portrait – maybe landscape –
                      enlarged, reduced (and whopaintedthis ‘click’ gottit) of

                      chair standing but not on
                      the tiles by the
                      turquoise door blue – wassnext! – standing

                      right in front (of the view
                      looking to be written on a notepad) right there
                      to one side of the frame in profile, ‘like I was …’

                      looking in ‘ready’ chirrup – then
                                                                      nudged
                      passing out of everyone’s way – ‘sorry!’

                      glasses on the head before
                      wheatfield with cypresses, hennaered
                      hair before rock shadows, and

                      tell me, is it the transluscent beer
                      or the backward look to another order
                      the point in the corner of the café-concert?

 

witnessed between elbows at the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London, 030515: La Terrasse at Vasouy, The Garden, Edouard Vuillard, 1901, reworked 1935; Van Gogh’s Chair, Vincent van Gogh, 1888; A Wheatfield, with Cypresses, Vincent van Gogh, 1889; Hillside in Provence, Paul Cézanne, about 1890-2; Corner of a Café-Concert, Edouard Manet, probably 1878-80

 

 

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

20th century & sound wormhole: a theremin note – poewieview #21
being wormhole: dash
blue wormhole: Jon
doors wormhole: through
field wormhole: keep the light off
garden wormhole: the open window
glasses wormhole: new garden
hair & shadow wormhole: 1964
living & skyline wormhole: Doctor Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
looking & posture wormhole: and that’s where I are
passing wormhole: 1963
people & writing wormhole: well,
speech wormhole: quite … / … yet – poewieview #12

 

a theremin note – poewieview #21

Tags

2016, 20th century, afterlife, Bowie, childhood, cocoon, death, driving, faces, footsteps, futility, headache, history, hope, horizon, identity, life, lifetimes, perception, porridge, sight, society, sound, tarmac, theremin, time, trend, weariness

                     and then there is a ready-delivered weariness
                     in life after things start to echo: a theremin note

                     receding back towards past wistful horizon;
                     and then the footsteps march muddy over

                     recalcitrant tarmac, the tyres keep turning
                     through skiddy porridge despite all steer;

                     it starts as top-spin kwinkle, first off, then
                     the taran-tadaa of new-stood sight, to the headaches

                     that leave the face all palsied, until the pallid
                     cocoon folds in to snuff the tired trend of hope

 

you have to go deep into the corridors and past the tall windows, to get to eventual recognition – let alone re-cognition when it cannot be found – with only brief respite between thoughts and the too-closeness of every footstep; you cannot escape the footsteps, no matter how many doors you peep into; After All, 1970

Read the collected movements in David Bowie: Movements in Suite Major

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: the 20th century
Bowie wormhole: and that’s where I are
childhood wormhole: through
death wormhole: life [‘n’ death] / legerdemain – poewieview #15
faces wormhole: Shonagh – poewieview #17
history & society wormhole: hinged – From Hell ch. V
horizon wormhole: Quiver of / Tiffany – poewieview #20
identity wormhole: true nature
life & time wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
lifetimes wormhole: my // shell – poewieview #19
sound wormhole: always

 

the 20th century

Tags

2015, 20th century, Alan Moore, commerce, compromise, crane, duty, economics, Eddie Campbell, From Hell, Have, life, river, secret, society

                                the 20th century

                                and so everything’s for getting
                                and it’s business as usual as long as

                                the denominator remains common
                                enough, high and low, because it is

                                so much easier to re-circuit a life
                                at the mere implication of a switch

                                (no need to call ‘howzat’ anymore)
                                it makes certainty very difficult, even

                                inappropriate; some thrive in it,
                                most live with unanswered questions

                                and awful duty (well, someone’s got to
                                do it); but the cranes on the riverside
                                                                             must
                                                                             keep
                                                                             lifting

 

askance from chapter eleven of From Hell by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell

a little snippet from askance From Hell, askance from chapter ten of From Hell by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell, gwn’n’avvalook

 

 

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

Alan Moore & society wormhole: darkness
20th century wormhole: the dash is magnificent / the shadow grotesque
compromise & life wormhole: our whore-y little compromises
crane & Have wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
economics wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
river wormhole: start where you are I