thar she perched

Tags

2013, ankle, breasts, earth, hair, knees, lap, legs, light, lotus, meaning, mist, morning, nose, posture, stone, Sylvia Plath, Tara, telephone lines, trees, typewriter, waist, walls, words, writing

 

 

 

                      thar she perched on the dry stone-
                      capped stone wall one morning
                      misty swirled the trees on the flat-
                      meadow horizon with right leg folded

                      down slipper-pointing to the earth with
                      sharp-ankle contrast to the stone and
                      left leg folded up anchored over right
                      knee padding-(pushing / rocking a loose

                      stone?) like Tara ready to step from her
                      lotus with pretty waist and pulled-back
                      sleeves – wait wait – she pulls the sheet
                      from the neat-clack type-writer perched-

      nestled against shin-bone in her lap – whawassat? – sheet stays wrapped around
      the platen, shoulders, bandana’d hair, pointy nose, pointy breasts, all, read
      attention to the words – held held – and while a telegraph pole leans slightly
      from the weight of all its messages a light flashes up from the distant trees

 

 

 

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

hair & mist wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
light wormhole: ‘in the centre of the bare room …’
meaning wormhole: events happen / through all measure of name
morning wormhole: 1977
posture wormhole: gently straighten
stone & trees wormhole: H e a v e
Sylvia Plath wormhole: living mystery / murder theatre
Tara wormhole: the strange mauve relief of / this burgundy-gritty encounter
walls wormhole: what heavy and cantilevered structure
words wormhole: our whore-y little compromises
writing wormhole: un … able

 

where to find it

Tags

2013, 5*, alleys, ankle, blue, Carol, dust, Leicester, living, looking, love, shops, streets, UB40, walking, white

                                                      (12 Bar)

                           how high
                     can plethora mount
                     and bridge the shop front
                           door?

                           blue writing
                     on white, will we find what we
                     look for in there, shall we go in or wait
                           now we

                           know
                     where to find it? dust in the streets
                     and alleys blows against
                           our ankles

 

 

 

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

blue wormhole: blue and green / a l l s  o  r  t  s
C & Leicester & love wormhole: ‘hand / in hand …’
living wormhole: you fail
looking wormhole: Peeks at Castleton
shops & streets & walking wormhole: to share
white wormhole: promenade

 

thar she perched

Tags

2013, 7*, ankle, attention, being, breasts, creativity, earth, horizon, legs, light, lotus, meadow, morning, muse, nose, stone, Sylvia Plath, Tara, thinking, trees, walls, words, writing

 

 

 

                                   thar she perched
                                   on the dry stone-capped
                                   stone wall one morning
                                   misty swirled the trees
                                   on the flat-meadow horizon

                                              with
                                   right leg folded down
                                   slipper-pointing to the earth and
                                   sharp-ankle contrast with the stone
                                              and
                                   the left leg folded up over anchored
                                   over her right knee padding-pushing
                                   a loose stone? Tara ready
                                   to step from her lotus with
                                   pretty waist and pulled back
                                   sleeves – wait wait

                                   she pulls the sheet from the
                                   neat clack typewriter perched
                                   nestled against shin bone
                                   in her lap – whawassat? – sheet
                                   stays wrapped around the platen
                                   shoulders bandana’d hair
                                   pointy nose pointy breasts all
                                   read attention into the words
                                              held
                                              held

                                   and while a telegraph pole
                                   leans slightly from the weight
                                   of its messages a light
                                   flashes up from the trees

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: alien / and awkward
being wormhole: let
creativity wormhole: waiting
earth & Sylvia Plath wormhole: preoccupied
horizon wormhole: the bench / on the fourth sister from / Birling Gap before the / wind-brushed scrub and gorse / and the grey-blue sky / smoothed through the / fishtank-blue horizon to / grey-green sea
light wormhole: 1971
morning wormhole: the pleasant land / of counterpane
muse wormhole: out!
stone wormhole: school uniform
thinking wormhole: stop
trees wormhole: new garden
words wormhole: reading // unstirred
writing wormhole: both