• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
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    • 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
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mlewisredford

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

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: anger

eyes like petals

07 Saturday Sep 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2019, 6*, anger, Arya Lalitavistara, attachment, Bodhi Tree, Buddha, compassion, earth, eyes, government, hate, identity, life, lotus, lust, Mara, orbit, power, self-grasping, sitting, stillness, suffering

                the variety of grotesquery
                with which beings grasp their self

                the various grips of power
                through summits of council

                and various arrays of stake and brandishment
                appear as the armies of Mara,

                the thirty two ways of seducing
                that would fill life to the full

                over both his shoulders
                while sat under the Tree as endlessly still

                as the orbiting earth;
                the Bodhisattva turned his head,

                clean as no motivation at all
                to exposure and scattered diaspora,

                but looked on them all
                with eyes like petals

 

 

 

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

Buddha wormhole: Candaka
compassion wormhole: at Kreukenhof
eyes wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – sooner; / and later
identity & life wormhole: none and all
power wormhole: the Bodhisattva set out / for the Seat of Awakening
sitting wormhole: quietly in my quiet house

 

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quietly in my quiet house

03 Monday Jun 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

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2019, 6*, anger, Anita Ekberg, fountain, house, identity, La Dolce Vita, others, quiet, sitting, society

                look at this one sitting to one side
                smouldering

                why does it sit there seething about
                it it it, while others

                get on doing stuff making
                a world-wide society of life

                with all of its crowns and repeated
                acts of shame

                look at their talent, their love,
                their art, their smile

                look at it, indulge in it; in fact,
                step into the pool and hold up your hair

                under the fountain for all to share
                glue-like to the society in which I sit

                quietly in my quiet house

 

drenched from under Bodhisattvacharyavatara VI, 76-77: [76] If someone is attuned enough to spiritual things to find delight and joy in recognising the appearance of excellent qualities and worth in another and praising them as a good person, and if this makes them happy and draws people close together, why then, oh (sulky) mind, don’t you join in with the recognition as well; why are you not rejoicing too and taking the same delight too? [77] (But isn’t feeling joy and delight an attachment, and therefore bad?) But this pleasure, this delight cultivated through praise of another’s virtue, is an entirely virtuous activity, a spring, a fountain, of joy, which is not prohibited, but, even, a precept, taught by those of Ultimate Quality and Worth, an excellent way to bring people together of which one should take full advantage.

 

 

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

house wormhole: Cote des Bœufs à l’Hermitage, Pontoise, 1877
identity & society wormhole: Renunciation
others wormhole: The Atlantic City Convention: 1. THE WAITRESS by William Carlos Williams
quiet wormhole: A Corner of the Garden at the Hermitage, 1877
sitting wormhole: Sujātā

 

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“And anger it is that lays in ruins / every kind of mental goodness.”

28 Tuesday May 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2019, 6*, anger, animals, architecture, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, collapse, corner, dream, fireplace, lintel, moss, pediment, pillars, ruin, settlement, sound, stone, thought, trees, walls, weight, windows

                                “And anger it is that lays in ruins
                                  every kind of mental goodness.”

                crunch what have I stepped on
                cracked, hollow, all about, what

                is this square stone pediment
                skewed and in the way, no, not

                square, this moss has rounded
                the corner, and here is a

                pillar (where’s the arch, where’s
                the other pillar) all concussed

                and made of cone it seems,
                it must have just collapsed

                one day, couldn’t hold the weight,
                maybe someone took the

                other pillar, maybe the lintel
                just shattered and got walked over;

                but no walls here, just that
                mound over there, I could

                climb the side, there are steps, oh,
                it was the fireplace, all that rubble

                has filled the hearth and …
                this was the back wall, here

                is a corner of a window space,
                but there are just trees to see

                now, was it cleared here once,
                did they keep animals milling

                about, were they comfortable,
                did they have dreams …?

 

a wistful from Bodhisattvacharyavatara VI, verse 7: “Encountering that which I fear or do not want, and obstructed or frustrated in obtaining what I want, these provide the fuels of discontent, of unhappiness, of irritation. They smoulder and then flare-up, spreading within me. I become built-up and headstrong with anger which eats away inside and will eventually consume me and the toxic world I have created for myself.” The title-quote is from “The Nectar of Mañjuśrī’s Speech”, a commentary to the Bodhisattvacharyavatara by Kunzang Palden.

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: La Route, Effet d’Hiver, 1872
dream wormhole: on facing the Have
sound wormhole: in turgid reflection
stone & trees wormhole: Cours La Reine, Rouen, 1890
thought wormhole: in deed
walls wormhole: Female Peasant Carding, 1875
windows wormhole: threshold to behold

 

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my uncomfortable life

29 Monday Apr 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, reflectionary

≈ 2 Comments

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2019, 6*, abandonment, activity, anger, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, breakdown, broken, career, closed, compromise, contentment, context, Dad, disappointment, expectation, experience, eyes, feeling sorry for myself, frustration, greed, hope, injustice, laziness, life, management, no voice, people, politicians, powerlessness, Principal, requirement, resentment, self-cherishing, self-confidence, self-doubt, self-esteem, slogans, society, spin, teaching, thought, Tony Blair, turmoil, waiting, words, work

                I did not know contentment
                at work, what was required,
                what I thought, I never wholly
                got my teaching … sorted

                turmoil, and even when not
                outwardly angry, I was
                closed off and unapproachable,
                carrying anger and resentment

                like a thorny bush tied
                to my back since Dad left
                and people were ‘phony’ and
                society was stupid and words

                were insincere and all activity
                was a compromise and my equals cheated
                and laziness was always greedy
                and hope was rude and the politicians

                were tricksters and Tony Bliar
                and managers slogan-shifted like there was no tomorrow
                and the Principals
                wouldn’t know what to do with good practice if it writhed around suggestively on their desk in front of them and made them delicious promises of future dangerous liaison                      

                and by default I am
                at least disappointed, usually frustrated
                and often impotent-angry with them
                when they invariably reference me

                (and they always reference me)
                or when I am actually wronged,
                and then I’ll blow, beyond all immediate context
                because I have already been smouldering,

                waiting for the wrong to happen,
                expecting the wrong to happen,
                experiencing the wrong happening
                even before it has manifested;

                and I am right, it is wrong
                and compromised and greedy and unprincipled
                what they have done, even
                when they haven’t

                given expression to it, in fact
                especially when they haven’t
                given full expression to it
                and are sloganising and spinning

                that what is happening
                is entirely something else;
                and the powerlessness of
                not being able to have a voice

                no appeal to a universal
                right and wrong … built me up
                with no recourse and, I get broken;
                look at my tired eyes – my uncomfortable life

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara VI, 3: A mind which walks with, which harbours, which is in the grip of, which is poisoned with anger and hate can neither establish nor enjoy any state of calm or peace, any sense of well-being or equipoise, any contentment, any resolution, neither can it feel any joy or delight, any sense of kindliness or love, nor can it sleep or rest, when the shard of aversion and hate is stuck and buried deep in one’s heart; but … I have retired now, I, am coming through

 

 

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

abandonment wormhole: south horizon
breakdown wormhole: green and / luminant / to behold
career wormhole: it’s / not what you do or what you say / if it ain’t got that swing
compromise wormhole: raised brow
Dad wormhole: the reach turned to love
eyes wormhole: The Atlantic City Convention: 1. THE WAITRESS by William Carlos Williams
life & society wormhole: the old man;
management wormhole: how to teach
people wormhole: Puerto del Carmen
teaching wormhole: and … // … sound
thought wormhole: so, how long is, a piece of string?
waiting wormhole: all // are // none
words wormhole: SPRING AND ALL VI by William Carlos Williams
work wormhole: Vue de Pontoise, 1873

 

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so, how long is, a piece of string?

27 Wednesday Mar 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, reflectionary

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

2018, 8*, anger, being, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, cause and effect, change, conditioned existence, doing, echo, enemy, event, existence, ghosts, identity, interaction, karma, knot, mind, others, practice, pre-existence, samsara, self-grasping, speech, talking to myself, tangle, thought, uncaused, untangling, web

                so, how long is a piece of string?

                always somehow, and ever somewhere,
                in a thousand different ways and
                a thousand different times, I set myself up,

                I set my self up
                to be the clever one, to be right in the end, and inevitably,
                like a thousand different echoes,

                someone comes and stands
                right in my way, or kneels in a ball behind me while someone else
                shoves me backwards

                so that I fall like a prat, and then someone else points
                and says ‘ha; ha’ in a thousand different ways; where
                do they all come from,

                do they just shimmer out of nowhere
                like ghosts just to frustrate me –whooo!–
                do they come out of nature,

                naturally unjust, naturally evil; are they just there
                existing from their own side, like a sharp bend in a long stretch of road
                {oh, come on,

                 no, they’d have to pre-exist in order to
                 come into existence, which would involve
                 a change in something which cannot change

                 because it is pre-existent, and therefore
                 causeless, so that it would have to stop being what it is
                 in order to be what it isn’t,

                 you know that, don’t you}; no, everything
                is conditioned, yes, and nothing stands
                independent by itself, so everything

                I have ever done or said or thought
                has been conditioned already, ok, but also,
                everything I have ever done or said

                or thought has also set up a
                whole web of further conditions
                which have had, or are nail-tapping waiting to have,

                an impact on other events
                and people; and yes, that’s ‘me’ in the corner …:
                the endless twists and turns I have made,

                and still making with every move and word and thought,
                which bind me in, tightly or loosely,
                to everything with which I interact –

                completely and utterly tangled:
                I hope I acted cleanly and carefully,
                but I’m afraid I didn’t – I’m … going to have to face my

                whole knot – a universally big ball,
                so much bigger than l’il ole me
                that it doesn’t seem to have much to do with me, but it does,
                it, all, does;

                and I’d better stop pulling and tugging away at it
                to get my own way and
                start untangling, and start untangling …

…I had a tangle of garden-wire to sort today; it had been wound round a dispenser but some of it had crossed over, become entangled, yanked, and a whole middle section had come away; then it had been worked on, to untangle it, but impatiently, and without thought, and so whole rolls of it had become furled over and through themselves, some bits were knotted, some bits were hanging out in great loops; being garden-wire, it kinked where it had been bent which also caught other strands as they came close to them in their tangle; and it had been cut for a quick solution, and so I had more than two ends that I could make any sense of; it took time untangling it, it took willing to give up on some progress I had already made on seeing that I’d started too far in, or too peripherally; it meant keeping hold of the thread I was starting with and turning the whole tangle around it, rather than working through the tangle, knowing that I was making problems for myself further down the line but I couldn’t worry about that yet; it meant having to abandon my initial thread sometimes to concentrate on further-on loops before I could return to it released; it meant I had to think ahead a bit to loosen the tangle in all the ways that it would, even if it meant unravelling the newly-wound initial thread I’d already sorted, a little; I had to take a rest every once in a while because I was concentrating too tightly …

                no, these enemies they’ve
                been ‘here’ all along, right in the
                back of my head, long forgotten,

                but from the time I crossed them
                in a thousand different ways
                and a thousand different times,

                they’ve been waiting, relentlessly,
                for a body and a circumstance to come together
                to respond:

                “there you go, mate, I owed you that”
                and inexorably I’d been setting myself up with just the right conditions
                to receive it

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara chapter VI, verse 47: Impelled by my actions – [drawn out by circumstance, incited by the heat of the moment, prompted by hearsay, provoked by trigger, instigated by design, mobilised by obligation, shoved by control, summoned by role] – those who cross or hurt me, those who do me wrong just appear, right in my way and do what they have to do. And because of their actions, they will end up fallen and consigned to the infernal realms … surely, isn’t it actually me who have destroyed and damned them, haven’t I just been the mirror to magnify back to them their harm?

and, yes, that is a reference to the REM song, losing … something

 

 

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

being & mind wormhole: …zzh-vvttP*–… … …
change wormhole: on facing the Have
doing & speech wormhole: ‘ouch’
echo wormhole: St. Erasmus in Bishop Islip’s Chapels, 1796
ghosts wormhole: what wounds have you got?
identity & others wormhole: there will be ovations
practice wormhole: ‘there, …’
samsara wormhole: glamour of saṃsāra
talking to myself wormhole: SPRING AND ALL VI by William Carlos Williams
thought wormhole: horizon

 

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‘ouch’

21 Thursday Mar 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, reflectionary

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2018, 6*, anger, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, cause and effect, circular poem, doing, speech, thinking

                                         what I say and do from now on because …             … ‘ouch’,
                                                           and take a little care over                                    I am hit by a stick –
                                                                       I shall wise up                                                  I shall be angry with the stick,
                                                          ‘damn my stupidity’,                                                      ‘damn stick’ …;
                                       with cause and conditionality,                                                          but the stick by itself
                                                         my blind messing                                                                cannot hurt me,
                                                I shall become angry at                                                                it is the wielder of the stick
                                              now, for it to be enacted –                                                             that made it happen –
and it was conditioned by the right circumstances,                                                                I shall be angry with the wielder,                                
                                                              to say or do so,                                                                ‘damn wielder’ …;
                                    it was caused by my tendency                                                                but, beforehand,
                                               wasn’t just spontaneous,                                                               the wielder of the stick was
                                                    but what I said or did                                                              not my attacker,
                                               ‘damn what I said or did’ …;                                                        he was prompted by his anger,
                             I shall be angry at what I said or did,                                                        the anger made him wield the stick –
                                                                         I said or did –                                                 I shall be angry at the anger,
                                               it was prompted by something                                      ‘damn his anger’ …;
                                                                         erupt from nowhere,                      but his anger didn’t

 

 

from Bodhisattvacharyavatara Chapter VI – verse 41: Although the immediate cause of the blows and injury I receive is delivered by the stick yet I do not take this into account but, rather, become angry at the wielder of the stick, my aggressor, my attacker. But then, as the attacker, likewise, is wielded under the influence of anger, if I really must get angry, it would be more fitting for me to rise and become angry at the anger instead.

 

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

circular poem wormhole: ‘… plane is upright …’
doing & speech wormhole: the reach turned to love
thinking wormhole: ‘there, …’

 

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the mantra of Maitreya

15 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, reflectionary

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2018, 8*, acceptance, anger, attachment, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, delusion, emptiness, falling, fire, flower, ground, life, love, Maitreya, mantra, openness, others, peace, sentient beings, suffering

                                                                the mantra of Maitreya

                                oh my loves,

                wriggling on the very thorns you couldn’t live without
                struck by the match over the gasoline you just poured
                falling like a stone through the emptiness you cannot evade

                you wave your arms at me
                you entice me in your dancing embrace
                you collide with me completely oblivious

                let me place the flower in the barrel of the gun
                let me accept-wide your disfigurement, your awkwardness
                let me be the ground, flat as the palm of a hand

                                open
                                open
                                open

                                SOHA

 

Maitreya will be the next being to manifest as a Buddha in this world after the teachings of the current Buddha have been lost; the mantra is actually OM MAITRI MAITRI MAHA MAITRI ARYA MAITRI SOHA; insofar as it can be translated it reads ‘OM love, love, great love, sublime love SOHA’, where ‘OM’ is ‘regarding everything from the most-bottom line’ and ‘SOHA’ is ‘let it be so, as it already is’; the poem flowered quite petally from Bodhisattvacharyavatara, chapter VI, verses 37-38: [37] And like this, when they are so bewildered under the spell and influence of the kleśas, they will even destroy and, finally, take their own treasured life, then, how might it be hoped they would hold themselves back from harming or killing the bodies of others? [38] Even if I have lost, or cannot develop, compassion for these beings intoxicated and driven mad by their kleśas, who are engaged within their own self-destruction – lost in their own perdition, chained within their own fall – and who are, even now, committed to my destruction, then, how could I develop anger towards them? The least I could do would be to restrain from anger.

 

 

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

acceptance wormhole: DANSE RUSSE by William Carlos Williams
emptiness wormhole: sun setting over a lake, 1840
life wormhole: it’s / not what you do or what you say / if it ain’t got that swing
love wormhole: the reach turned to love
Maitreya wormhole: birth in the world
openness wormhole: transferring
others wormhole: glamour of saṃsāra

 

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faulteous beings

05 Tuesday Mar 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, reflectionary

≈ 1 Comment

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2018, 5*, anger, blindness, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, delusion, identity, ignorance, infatuation, naïveté, society, un-virtue, world

                lookitall, this un-virtue,
                all this aroused anger –

                naïveté, infatuation,
                ignorance, delusion,

                blindness; there is
                no righteous anger, we

                are all self-branded
                faulteous beings

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara, Chapter VI – verse 67: Someone acts badly influenced by delusion, naïveté, infatuation, and another gets angry at them also out of ignorance, infatuation, blindness; of these two, which can we say acts without fault, and which is at fault?

 

 

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

identity & society wormhole: and … // … sound
world wormhole: travelling / back

 

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‘there, …’

18 Monday Feb 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, reflectionary

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2018, 5*, anger, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, corroboration, evidence, fidgeting, identity, irritation, lotus, me-me-me, patience, practice, thinking, time

                                                there,

                that fidgeting ‘no’
                and the cloud of a
                thousand irritations,
                that flick the switch

                without audible click,
                the not-should-somes
                the way-shoulds and always
                the don’t-like-doesn’ts,

                the no-good-nothings
                and me, and me, and me a thousand
                and one times a day,
                build me up accumulated,

                become familiar,
                remind me that I don’t like,
                recognise myself as don’t
                like, corroborating me

                evident to just as it is; I’ll
                go looking for it when
                feeling unsure, make me
                constructed again – girder

                rivet, graunch – hold the
                gantry and pucker in
                the face of all adversity, my
                steely face’ll s t r e t c h

                like leather and I’ll draw the line
                in the sand all around me
                like a corpse taken away
                for inevitable forensics;

                no, the practice of patiences
                are a billion-fold and perpetual
                opening throughout time
                into a grandiloquent lotus

 

from Bodhisattvacharyavatara VI, 2: There is nothing so destructive and negative as hatred or aggression; there is no discipline or austerity stronger than tolerance, forbearance or patience. Consequently it is only right to practise and cultivate patience and to do so constantly and persistently in all ways and in all situations.

 

 

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

identity wormhole: Fishermen at Sea, 1796
practice wormhole: between
thinking wormhole: despite that
time wormhole: Hastings: neither all or nothing

 

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glamour of saṃsāra

05 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2018, 7*, anger, blood, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, fighting, glamour, honour, humility, identity, injury, kleshas, mind, mouth, others, patience, samsara, sincerity, step, superhero, within, world

                the self-built hero
                has levelled the world
                to win an honour

                the super hero
                has vanquished anger within
                with no harm to others;

                the super hero
                confronts the enemies
                as they arise in the mind

                step by slow step
                disregarding the struggle involved
                humble, un-beguiling, true;

                after all, when in battle,
                injury will occur – I wipe my bloodied mouth and stagger to my feet,                           
                begone, glamour of saṃsāra

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara VI, 20 – There are those who take their enemies’ blows upon their chests, (taking them on the chin). It is they who are the victors, the heroes, they who courageously disregard all suffering and pain in vanquishing the enemies such as hatred and so forth. Ordinary warriors are just killers of the dead.

 

 

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

identity & mind wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
mouth wormhole: THE LONELY STREET by William Carlos Williams
others wormhole: allowed all gain
samsara wormhole: all // are // none
superhero wormhole: to arms, then;
world wormhole: early // Minoan & Mycenaean Exhibitions in the British Museum – diptych

 

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… 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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