poessay XI – piquant love

Tags

2019, 6*, arch, cause and conditionality, compromise, crane, doing, identity, intuition, knowledge, letting go, life, love, not knowing, obscuration, opportunity, others, poessay, scandal, self, shadow, sitting, thought, writing

poessay XI –

                lookitallathisabouttheplace –
                both the obscuration and the opportunity difficult
                either to see or to take:

                                I don’t know what to do –
                                inject into causality
                                project over condition (whatever

                                I’m sure that’s not the way to do) –
                                I can only know what I intuit
                                usually de-spite “I don’t know

                                but will step in line
                                if you let me join the gang”
                                best served unnoticeable

                                but not really
                                me no matter how deep the cover;
                                so back to the hunch –

                                crane reaching from the crumbling arch –
                                written up on giddy foolscap
                                (given half the chance, or notice)

                                but this is not me either
                                just a more clever ‘I don’t know’
                                than all the others who don’t know at all

                                or know by some rote too lazy
                                or compromised to know (what I
                                might know) or those who

                                say they know holding me deficient
                                that I don’t behave as they know
                                (compromised to behold), or then

                                there are those who seem to know
                                despite the prevalence and norm all about
                                from whom I absorb

                                through my very xylem
                                and then heavy-shadow them all about
                                but they don’t know either

                                just more mystically or glamorously so
                                until the scandal;
                                so don’t try to know at all

                                because any of this knowing
                                is just a whorl somewhere
                                within cascading causality

                                making sure my specious self;
                                just let the self go
                this knower, this knower so much better and deeper than anyone else who does not even know what is to be known,                

                                let it all go
                                and sit with the not-knowing,
                                watching all the fluidity with

                                                                                                piquant love

 

 

 

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

compromise wormhole: looking for the right exit
crane & doing & identity & thought & writing wormhole: travel // when I die
knowledge wormhole: Dulwich College, London, 1871
letting go wormhole: at Kreukenhof
life wormhole: psssssh
love wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – The Valley
others wormhole: quietly in my quiet house
shadow wormhole: breakfast
sitting wormhole: – creak —

 

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looking for the right exit

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2019, 6*, ampitheatre, arch, Chester, compromise, driving, gothic, history, identity, living, mosaic, role, Roman, roundabout, ruin, schoolchildren, settlement, sleep, society, storey, time, traffic lights

                there
                                may
                                                have
                                                                been

                bygone gothic arches
                pointing two three storeys up
                on the traffic-lighted roundabout

                and milling schoolchildren with
                Roman shields marching patchwork
                from the rebuilt amphitheatre, I know

                but that single vice in perpetuity
                above and beyond the call of living
                from which to sleep heavy,

                snug and secure under
                single tattered rank, and ever
                metres deep in tread across

                meticulous tesserae – mosaic
                to the measure of all settlement –
                was far too much to emerge from with any certainty,

                                looking for the right exit

 

back from a visit to the midlands; visited Chester for the first time – it’s an old town, back to when it all begannn annnd connnntinnnues…

 

 

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

compromise wormhole: my uncomfortable life
history wormhole: pursued
identity wormhole: writening
living wormhole: it’s / not what you do or what you say / if it ain’t got that swing
sleep wormhole: beguiled / desire
socoeity wormhole: boiled spangle with soft centre
time wormhole: then
traffic lights wormhole: travelling / back

 

David Bowie – Iris

Tags

2014, anxiety, arch, blue, Bowie, carpet, eyes, India, iris, lemon, lime, mauve, mist, portrait, sky, south, stone, time

 

 

 

                                Iris

                on the wide steppes
                swathed languid and anxious
                in belts of lime mist before
                an open stone archway

                eyes raise dreadful
                through lemon carpets
                to blueing sky and – mauve –
                washes southwards

 

I wrote this of an iris I found in Darmstadt, Germany; what drew me to it was the notion of the Aryan peoples of central Asia who penetrated into the Indian sub-continent and flowered the Upanishads; but the poem still didn’t feel quite complete until I heard of the death of David Bowie this morning

 

 

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

anxiety wormhole: Eridge – Cowden
blue wormhole: “walking …”
Bowie wormhole: New York Movie, 1939
carpet wormhole: sit
eyes & mauve & sky wormhole: ‘in clear oil air …’
lemon wormhole: Le Pont des Arts, 1907
lime wormhole: [start where you are III] – delve
mist wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile
stone wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
time wormhole: Seven A.M, 1948

 

bougainvillea

Tags

2014, arch, bench, bougainvillea, calm, Carol, clock, colour, cornice, dock, ferry, fish, Gran Canaria, green, plaza, returning, sill, sister, time, waiting, waves, windows

 

 

 

                                                                                 bougainvillea

                                it was the green bench
                they had agreed to meet to get the ferry back to Puerto Rico
                                              in the small plaza in Mogan
                                under the clock that doesn’t work
                                                              at ten to one

                                she waited for hours
                                              after the designated time
                different colours piped around each sill and window
                                                              all warm
                                              and the bougainvillea yet just leaf
                                                                                 twining all the archways and cornices
                                                              and the shoals of fish at the dock
                                              ever cutting alternate to quotidian wave

                                                              and caught
                                                              at last
                                the last boat home
                                the sister had already taken the next return
                a year later we returned
                                              the time was still ten to one
                                but this time bougainvillea-pretty
                                                              and calm

 

 

 

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

bench wormhole: corner of Plum Lane / Eglinton Hill and / Shrewsbury Lane
Carol wormhole: hungry for a thread or two
green wormhole: ‘green plum jam on rye …’
time wormhole: the breath of London
waiting wormhole: Summertime, 1943
waves wormhole: left alone
windows wormhole: com- / mute