• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • through the crash
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
    • William Carlos Williams
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • wormholes

mlewisredford

~ may the Supreme and Precious Jewel Bodhichitta take birth where it has not yet done so …

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: allowing

it’s / not what you do or what you say / if it ain’t got that swing

04 Monday Feb 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2018, 5*, allowing, being, breathing, career, doing, giving, growth, hedge, knowing, landscape, letting go, life, living, mountain, passing, regulation, retirement

                                              it’s
                        not what you do or what you say
                                if it ain’t got that swing

                                              not
                the regulation of life that lives and grows
                        but the approach of not taking it;

                                              not the
                coming out on top a mountain that never summits
                        but in the byways along the hedges passing landscapes

                                            not …
                        the giving way or giving over,
                                but the letting go,

                                    not
                        about the knowing
                                but all about the being

                                              not
                about the certificates and positions that make the career
                        but the smile of greeting

                                               it is
                in seeing that there is nothing to Have
                        that the perfections of living breathe

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being & career & doing & living wormhole: between
breathing wormhole: London, 1809
giving wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
hedge wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
letting go wormhole: to let be
life wormhole: The Diligence at Louveciennes, 1870
passing wormhole: St. Erasmus in Bishop Islip’s Chapels, 1796
retirement wormhole: somehow

 

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to let be

21 Wednesday Nov 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2018, 6*, allowing, being, change, echo, identity, letting go, looking, meaning, mist, Mum, prospect, purpose, putting out, retirement, rhetoric, school, shopping, space, streets, voice, wisdom

                                so I stopped working
                in an institution that couldn’t converse within its own rhetoric

                                couldn’t find a voice
                to navigate through all that drifting mist, and got lost, so I

                                no longer comb
                through shops and streets looking for echoes of a lost chord

                                that would weave
                my lives back together (couldn’t find it in all that looking),

                                all that
                                anxious putting-out
                and prospect, finding everything changed and nothing done,

                                and no monument
                that I was ever really there other than the space through

                                which the change
                happened glorious to allow, nothing to behold, everything

                                to be, a lot of
                history to let go – it was obstructive of me to try to solidify

                                there anyway,
                I should have stayed with the wisdom I inherited before

                                I was born,
                allowed the acceptance of my mother’s wisdom: to let be

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being & identity & meaning wormhole: SPRING AND ALL VI by William Carlos Williams
change wormholeL The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Trees
echo wormhole: La Route de Louveciennes, 1870
letting go wormhole: beguiled / desire
looking wormhole: SPRING AND ALL XI by William Carlos Williams
mist wormhole: early // Minoan & Mycenaean Exhibitions in the British Museum – diptych
Mum wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
retirement wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – old George
school & streets wormhole: THE LONELY STREET by William Carlos Williams
space wormhole: space for probing thought

 

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woman / has worked in the gym / got a build

09 Saturday Sep 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2014, 3*, allowing, chair, exercise, fingers, flying, forearm, hands, knuckle, letting go, playing, portrait, sitting, weight, woman

                                                    woman
                                has worked in the gym
                                   got a build

                                sits in the chair
                for a thousand miles slacked that ten thousand sit-ups allow
                                hands hold the tablet
                with strategic fingers relaxed
                                that the deadweight has been let go
                playing bejewelled deft as rounded knuckle and
                                veinéd forearm allow

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

allowing wormhole: listen willya
hands wormhole: sleep now
letting go wormhole: forgotten anything
sitting wormhole: dear Lucy
woman wormhole: ‘someone …’

 

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listen willya

05 Tuesday Jul 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2012, 7*, allowing, anxiety, budget, buildings, business, care, communication, consumerism, creativity, David Cameron, education, evaluation, exploration, extension, flag, Have, history, inclusion, innovation, investment, justice, knowledge, learning, lesson, life, listening, love, management, Margaret Thatcher, market, money, nurture, ownership, politics, privatisation, professionalism, prospect, public service, public service cuts, reform, slogans, society, speech, statistics, status, talking, teaching, time, tolerance, Tony Blair, understanding, value-bled education, value-led education, values, vision, wisdom

                                listen willya

                David Cameron, Tony stupid Blair, Margaret bloody Thatcher,
                and all your snivelling Secretaries of Career, and learn this, now –

                                                   don’t go!__
                                business ) education

                you’ve created a RIGHT MESS trying to make it go
                and you’ve spent a QUARTER CENTURY trying to make it go

                trying to work it out with long division, taking everything apart
                to make it go; it just has no value anymore

                nothing has any value anymore, no one cares anymore, we are
                all just anxious; dy’know

                you said KUE* every lesson, I said don’t be so silly,
                I spent five years making it work, I said I’ve made it work

                you said don’t be so silly – it doesn’t influence the statistics;
                I have to go to school now and pretend I’m a professional

                in all sorts of ways to make it look like it goes,
                but it just doesn’t; y’know we’re going to have

                to start all over again if we want anything like education in society again,
                right back to the drawing board; and no history; let’s see –

                                                           _creativity_
                                              nurture ) education

                                               exploration_
                                listening ) education

                                                          _wisdom__
                                              tenure ) education

                           _inclusion_
                vision ) education

                                                                    _innovation_
                                              management ) education

                                                    _extension_
                                exploration ) education

                                 _allowing_
                creativity ) education

                                                            _tolerance_
                                              wisdom ) education

                                                       ___love___
                                              care ) education

                                   _prospect_
                investment ) education

                                        __justice_
                                love ) education

                oh I could go on and on; and – no offence – but stuff your statistics
                and your statuses and your budgets and your slogans

                and your privatisation and your reform, screw them up
                into one huge ball and throw them

                in the bin, and let’s just have some
                honest communication now; you, all of you, went wrong

                as soon as you thought that public service should be value for money,
                (should save money, should make money), but no –

                                               ___don’t go!___
                                business ) public service

                a society that is alive, and rugged, makes money
                to build public service, not own it, to run public service,

                not demand of it, gives service to the public, not a market,
                gives life to society, not just consuming it

                you lot don’t know the first thing about big society, none of you,
                public service should absorb money, it should be

                soaked with money, it should lose money: the only reason
                money should exist is for public service,

                because the service it gives is always far more important
                than a big building and a flag;

                so, stop playing your endless games of balance and measure –
                you’re wasting far too much human –

                and start saying something alive, start doing something truthful;
                c’mon now, you look ridiculous

 

* Knowledge Understanding Evaluation

                                                   don’t go!__
                                business ) education

it might well be that the above format won’t make any sense if you are anywhere under the age of 45: it is the revered and ancient way of setting out division calculations in Mathematics; it ‘reads’, “business [divided into] education [=] don’t go”, where you might more readily have “5 [divided into] 60 [=] 12” … the result appears ‘on top’, leaving the space below to do the working out of long division (“17 [divided into] 43.6299 [=] 2.56646470588”; ‘show your working-out, boy’ thwackk)

I first wrote this in 2012 when there was industrial action over teachers’ pay and conditions – just about the time I started completely losing my emotional marbles at work; I have slightly reconfigured the piece and re-posted it on the day that the NUT is taking industrial action over teachers’ workload, pay and budget cuts: what does the government respond: ‘we are spending more than ever on education’!? … ‘show your working-out, girl’ thwackk!!!

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

allowing wormhole: need
anxiety wormhole: what I am about to say is true / what I just said was a lie
buildings wormhole: the policies came to nothing
communication & politics wormhole: B le tch l ey P ark
creativity & life & love & society & teaching & time wormhole: ashramas
education wormhole: the coming of ‘The Boats of Vallisneria’ by Michael J. Redford
evaluation & understanding wormhole: the Apple
Have wormhole: Jericho
history wormhole: currency of generations
justice wormhole: dedication
knowledge wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – introdepthion
learning wormhole: aghh – we’ve been infected / it’s spreading through the system / we’re losing our files … / it’s taken out the processor … / I, I can’t open with this program anymore … / it’s scanning me – / I’ve got to buy a Virus Protection Program / from it …
listening wormhole: plop!
management wormhole: dry rot
money wormhole: tired
professionalism wormhole: dash
speech wormhole: a crack of lightning / in the dark of night
talking wormhole: “Darling” – poewieview #28
value-led education wormhole: Totnes
values wormhole: Dear Sir/Madam,

 

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reaching branch

25 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2016, allowing, architecture, branches, change, clouds, coffee shop, compassion, feet, identity, landscape, mind, others, passing, people, reaching, Shrewsbury, sky, walking, watching, windows, writing

                           the landscapes
                           that conceive the mind

                           shift like
                           architecture of deep-belly clouds

                           watching all
                           the occasions of feet pass

                           in the window
                           of the same coffee shops to which I return

                           allowing each
                           lace and ripple bulb and disperse over

                           reaching branch

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

allowing wormhole: reaching branch
architecture wormhole: the missing chord // the now-silent seagull
branches wormhole: furl-reach
change wormhole: B le tch l ey P ark
clouds & identity & windows wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – the soft canticle of the gourds:
coffee shop wormhole: the coffee shop opportunity
compassion wormhole: constant hummm
feet wormhole: Hurst Green
mind wormhole: ‘on second thought …’ – poewieview #27
others wormhole: and that’s where I are
passing & people wormhole: 1964
sky wormhole: tired
walking wormhole: tripping up to / London town
writing wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – introdepthion

 

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need

23 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2013, acceptance, allowing, beauty, being, career, defeat, doing, emptiness, identity, living, need, writing

                                                    I need to accept
                                               this emptiness
                                          not become it

                                I need to allow
                           this defeat
                      not fight it

                      I need to find my beauty and hide it
                      let it be seen and found as it will or not
                      but not because I have proffered it or

                                          worn it or
                                          dressed it
                                          in syllables

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

acceptance wormhole: because
allowing wormhole: opening
beauty & being & doing & identity & writing wormhole: the writing’s on the wall
career wormhole: bavardage
emptiness wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
living wormhole: 1968

 

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opening

11 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

'scape, 2013, allowing, architecture, art, bay window, being, finding, found, grey, high, Italianate, marble, open, opening, piano, searching, Sevenoaks, shape, sky, sound, Spring, stucco, suburbia, Victorian houses, windows

                                the art to finding
                                is not in the searching
                                but in the allowing

                                or opening to what
                                is to be found as spring
                                sounds like bay windows,

                                stucco, and Italianate
                                overhang of a late
                                Victorian villa under

                                high-marble grey sky in
                                suburban Sevenoaks from
                                which the faint idle

                                tinklings of a piano
                                shape through a let-open
                                window

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

allowing wormhole: my life / of others
architecture wormhole: crease and score of silver-morning sky
being wormhole: becoming
grey wormhole: where the goblins leered – poewieview #14
open wormhole: Grizedale College
piano wormhole: ‘the hour before dinner – / the empire of dusk’ – poewieview #6
searching wormhole: thick thick fog
sky & windows wormhole: stacked
sound wormhole: the sounds of 1969 // [would have] seemed that way – poewieview #13
Spring wormhole: 50 mph
Victorian houses wormhole: gotcha

 

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my life / of others

11 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2012, Allen Ginsberg, allowing, America, awkward, being, bittersweet, breathing, community, decades, desert, doing, echo, eyes, family, fog, giving, gravity, horizon, identity, inclusion, ink, life, lifetimes, listening, loneliness, love, management, marble, mauve, meaning, others, planet, pointlessness, purpose, radiation, relationship, secret, silence, sitting, society, talking to myself, time, twilight

 

y’know; sometimes you’ve just got to have a rambling, indulgent, pig-headed, why-is-no-one-listening-to-me, pathetic, awkward (don’t forget the ‘awkward’), poor-me whiiine to realise just how rambling, indulgent, pig-headed, why-is-no-one-listening-to-me-ie, pathetic, and awkward you can be; sigh – but there’s still some poetry in it, so I’ll share the self-pity about (caution: this is quite a high-pitched whiiine; it is strongly urged that you wear ear-protection – or at least stick your fingers in your ear reciting la-la-la – if you undertake to read this; you have been warned)

 

 

                my life
                                of others

                                how long has this been going on
                how long this has been going on

demands in their eyes pull me to them like a planet
                pull on me to contain them
                                pull deep in me through the latest casual orbit

                                I give because I can
                learnt silently over decades
                                              I have lived to allow ever wider
                                in order to include
                                              to neutralise my gravity in order to listen
                and let them breathe enough
                                              to find their own solution –
decades of leaning a hundred awkward ways
                                              to be with others
                                decades of privately finding ways
                to re-collect my own gravity –
                                                              shiny marbles with petrified ink –
                                              and decades having to let them go
                                                              one by one
                                              tearfully
                                eventually

                                              all under the great broad horizon
                                lost before the hills on the great broad horizon
                the beautiful-twilight mauve desert
                                              and the radiation presence of another close planet they
                cannot do the same for me
                                                              they will not do the same for me:

                                the squalls and foreclosures,
                                              they are of my own making
                an audience extends only so far as to conclude that it is all my own awkwardness – all I have to do is fit –
                                              before I have even finished explaining
                usually I don’t bother to finish
                                or even start
                                              the solution is ready-made
                                                              (with a few ‘hmm’s to make it look kindly)
                or just kept to themself
                                echoing loudly behind their eyes

                                              like sharing secrets with the fog
                                                              I find myself alone
                each one of them was the last person I could turn to in the world
                                but they all uncannily agree with each other
                                              they are the Company Man

                                I have done my bit for the family
                                I have done my bit for the team
                                I have done my bit for the community
                                                              all by not being there
                                              all by not getting in the way
                I cried when I was acknowledged once
                                                                                 it never happened again

                                I suppose
                                it’s just
                                              they need to keep from shattering in a thousand pieces
                they need to hold the whole damn thing together
so I give because I can
                                because it is right
                                                              but cannot expect return
                                                              they cannot give
                                                              what they expect
                                                              in return
                                for sure things are done things may be organised
                                                              (sometimes even when I want them)
                                              but for some greater good
                                                              for some greater career
                                                              for some greater legacy
                                                                                 not mine
                                              certainly not mine (‘America I have given you all
                                                              and now I am nothing’)

                                              when I work it is all about them
                when I stop it is all about how they performed
                                all that I do and don’t do
                                              is how it sits as support or burden
                                                              to them
                                conclusion: it is only them who do the work
                                              the thinking the organising
                                                              I seem to do nothing
                                                              really
                and do it annoyingly and awkwardly and thinkingly – roll of eyes – I
                                have to be managed to be of any competence
                                              (that’s meant affectionately) I
                                              am just the recipient of their
                                                              good work
                                                              (what do they call them these days – ‘clients’)
                                              my value
                                              my contribution
                                              what I am
                                                              are the price I pay to receive

                so I don’t say anything much – what’s the point?
                                I’ll put a few things out
                                              tentatively
                                (where I might be patronised at best – if I’m lucky,
                                                                                 if the planets are lined up right)
                                                              told it’s cute
                                              or individual
                                or much too clever to understand
                or it’s not what was needed
                                              or sorry, Mark, did you say something
                                                              and the audience will move deftly on
                                to what it wanted to talk about anyway
                or what it wanted to be doing
                                              all along

                                I mostly keep it to myself
                                                              here
                                              in the place I claim
                                              each day – time to myself bittersweet
                                                              (at siege from service and compliance)
                to ‘indulge’ myself ‘stay up too late’ ‘contemplate my navel’
                                                              otherwise I get ‘grumpy’
                                              I talk to
                                              myself
                                                              I am not the Company Man
                                                                                 no one
                                                                                 to share
                                                                                 me with
                no one beyond the managed obliged corporate return
                                              oh yes I return to myself
                                                              find my own meaningpurposeaudiencelove
                                              safe in the fifty year relationship
                                which is good for only one

                                decades whittled away
                                              here and there
                                                              chips and shavings on the floor
                                leaving a petrified face
                eyes wide mouth open
                                              bas-relief out from being

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

Allen Ginsberg & giving wormhole: tag cloud poem VIII – growth
allowing & loneliness wormhole: letters to Mum VI – Years / after you have gone. Still.
being & breathing & sitting wormhole: the art of sit and follow
doing & identity wormhole: my beauty
echo wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
eyes & time wormhole: ambling around / the garden centre
family wormhole: sometimes
fog homework: tag cloud poem VII – form new freedom:
horizon wormhole: To my Mum
life & love wormhole: I love with all the history and lack of perfections at our command
lifetimes & others & pointlessness & society wormhole: Totnes
listening wormhole: before // writing?
management wormhole: poessay VIII: / educational behaviourism
mauve wormhole: ‘green post …’
meaning & talking to myself wormhole: the stance of Buscema // qualitatively
twilight wormhole: the four whores of the apocalypse

 

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letters to Mum VI – Years / after you have gone.   Still.

21 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

2006, 2014, 2015, allowing, being, breathing, death, doing, growth, identity, letter, life, loneliness, love, Mum, reaching, realisation, talking, time, writing

 

Yesterday was the sixteenth remembrance of my Mum’s death; she was 65.   She left nothing as memorial or legacy but the let and allow for worlds of words to fructify …

 

 

                                                                      June 2006

                                Dear Mum,

                                we haven’t talked for a long time
                                because you are no longer here to

                                hear (… OK), but it gradually
                                occurs to write to ‘you’ who is

                                still part of my every inbreath and
                                ever was for more of those forty

                                years; but I suppose I write
                                because I am lonely here being

                                grown up by myself.   I suppose
                                I am doing a good job – but what

                                unnecessary reaching to have
                                arrived so far, always far from

                                here and old from now and
                                stranger to who I always was;

                                you said I was aloof and difficult
                                to like, and I think I realise now

                                that I ever was and still am, but
                                you always let an allow, wide as

                                a paddock, and a dash of affection
                                despite my awkward being and I

                                think I miss that in life, more, I
                                keep hoping to find it anywhere

                                else but it just can not be found,
                                I am just, and am ever, awkward

                                and quite unclear to like.   And
                                there it is.   Another realisation

                                to exhale and step forward.   Years
                                after you have gone.   Still.

                                love, Mark

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

allowing wormhole: tag cloud poem II – acceptance
being & breathing & doing & identity & life & realisation wormhole: (another / gulp of air)
death & loneliness wormhole: Desolation Angels
love wormhole: bottom of Herbert Road to the / foot of Eglinton Hill dream
Mum & time wormhole: To my Mum
talking wormhole: dream 260713
writing wormhole: thar she perched

 

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tag cloud poem II – acceptance

20 Thursday Feb 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2014, 4*, acceptance, afternoon, air, allowing, anxiety, attention, awareness, compassion, growing, shamatha-vipashyana, tag cloud poem

 

 

 

                                    acceptance

 
                                                          of all the afternoon air
                                                          allowing all the attendant anxiety coupled
                                    with precise  attention and
awareness wide as the sky

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

acceptance wormhole: again
afternoon wormhole: … still waving!
air wormhole: good / enough
allowing wormhole: stop
anxiety wormhole: breathe, be / and sit still
attention wormhole: rhetorical inevitability inexorable in both immanent dissipation & implicit effulgence
awareness wormhole: let
compassion wormhole: only
shamatha-vipashyana wormhole: not that close
tag cloud poem wormhole: tag cloud poem I – numbers

 

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← Older posts

… Mark; remember …

"... the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful; it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe to find ashes." ~ Annie Dillard

pages coagulating like yogurt

  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 10
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Introduction
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • through the crash
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • William Carlos Williams
  • wormholes

recent leaks …

  • “…and may the great elements…”
  • paisley // implicitly
  • this pocketed being
  • the inevitable tock // when we close our eyes
  • time
  • the simple prayer // the tattered poem // the bitter lament
  • taking birth
  • mirror
  • long / road
  • ‘in my car I pass…’

Uncanny Tops

  • me
  • Moebius strip
  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
  • 'the practice ...'
  • 'I can write ...'
  • like butterflies on / buddleia
  • meanwhile
  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • under the blue and blue sky

category sky

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