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 –

 

a crack of lightning / in the dark of night

Tags

2016, 7*, arc, architecture, axle, beach, belly, Bodhichitta, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, buoyancy, centre, choice, connection, dark, emptiness, eyes, gesture, high, lightning, mind, mouth, night, opening, pattern, phantom, pillars, porticos, posture, samsara, shadow, shallow, shame, Shantideva, show, silence, sky, speech, true nature, twilight, uncaused, universe, waves, world

                                a crack of lightning
                                in the dark of night

                                the world casts eyes
                                downwards bullied

                                by the dirty phantoms
                                of obligèd choice with

                                pillars and porticos
                                deep and high across

                                the silent sky like an
                                end of age crepuscule

                                gathering ténèbres,
                                all while the mind revolves,

                                empty to the universe about,
                                empty at the centre of

                                the mighty axle of
                                uncaused leave to turn,

                                when through the merest
                                gesture of pouvoir, an

                                imperturbable shift of
                                posture, a disclosure, is

                                opened and cracks
                                across the sky – the

                                phantoms cannot dully
                                sustain their buoyant

                                suspension – they arc
                                and connect in frantic

                                pattern showing
                                everything like bellies

                                of incestual shame and
                                mouths too small to think

                                to talk; “no more” they
                                wail, leaning into their

                                true nature like shallow
                                waves on a long beach

 

from Bodhisattvacharyavatara by Acharya Shantideva, chapter one, verse five

 

 

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

beach wormhole: development
Bodhichitta wormhole: – sigh! –
emptiness wormhole: the policies came to nothing
eyes wormhole: 1964
mind & sky wormhole: reaching branch
mouth wormhole: too late:
night wormhole: work
posture wormhole: impressionism
samsara wormhole: my // shell – poewieview #19
shadow wormhole: Drug Store, 1927
silence & speech wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – the soft canticle of the gourds:
waves wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – introdepthion
world wormhole: words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25

 

development

Tags

2014, beach, death, doubt, foundation, ideas, identity, investment, management, pointlessness, professional development, walls, waves

 

 

 

                                              development

                                will never happen
                unless you allow ideas
                                              to die
                                              like waves on a flat beach
                                most ideas won’t work (but that
                management will drive them through
                                to recoup the return
                                on the initial speculative investment)
                                              but then
                                once the doubt is cast
                                              once the walls appear hollow
                                              even the deepest foundation reinforces
                                                              my own transparency

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: dream 230315
death & walls wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
identity & pointlessness wormhole: spit / spot
management wormhole: my life / of others
waves wormhole: bougainvillea

 

dream 230315

Tags

2015, airport, beach, business, Carol, Charlotte, dream, horizon, identity, leisure, life, lightning, looking, morning, Mum, plane, sea, station, sunshine, talking, time, town, train, walking, windows, Woolwich, work

 

 

 

                                                      dream 230315

                           walking through town in a Woolwich
                           cleaned timeless on a sunny morning

                           into the clinic along Powis Street on time
                           for my eventual appointment in life;

                           the first client amid the beginning-of-day
                           chat, dispersal into action behind screens;

                           she sits on the settee, I sit on the swivel
                           chair; she looks at me       assessing, I feel

                           good in my natty casual clothes; she cannot
                           speak, tries several times, she consults a

                           colleague; they are surprised, the consultation
                           becomes a sit-down party, I, fade from the

                           scene … walking about the seaside town, the
                           preparations for the coming day of all the

                           business and the leisure to be made from it –
                           hand-painted lettering in bleary windows a

                           metal stand is handed down to the beach
                           showing the way to the after-dinner boat

                           trip (where will it moor?); the water is full
                           of junked buoys, slimey and sun-faded; a sea

                           plane passes overhead up the beach – no help –
                           a huge helijet comes in low – gigantic – heading

                           for the airport – airport? – falling, she’s
                           too big for the town, nose-diving, disappears

                           into collapse like a building with plumes
                           of columns and lightning on the horizon;

                           Carol and the kids; I run to where I left them,
                           not at the station, no entry; but here is

                           Charlotte, only 6; train is leaving town,
                           Charlotte has gone, I cannot see Carol;

                           I run down the platform to say goodbye,
                           she turns to face me; she is Mum

 

 

 

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

beach & morning & time wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
Carol & looking wormhole: recline
Charlotte wormhole: ‘my Dot …’
dream & windows & work wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
horizon wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
identity wormhole: it is complete
life wormhole: Detective Comics #345
lightning wormhole: footfall
Mum wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
sea wormhole: Buddha / Shakyamuni
talking wormhole: you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out
train wormhole: travelling
walking wormhole: earthed
Woolwich wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile

 

that comicbookshop in dreams,

Tags

1960s, 2015, anxiety, arrival, bay window, beach, black, blue, buildings, comics, doing, doors, dream, Edward Hopper, eyes, finding, floorboards, frustration, glass, going, grey, growth, hill, home, hope, identity, lemon, lifetimes, lino, looking, moon, morning, numbers, regret, searching, shadow, shops, sky, step, streets, sycamore, Thames, time, town, trees, universe, Victorian houses, walls, windows, wormhole, writing

 

 

 

that comicbookshop in dreams,

where the sidestreets meet together
off the highstreets under the shadows
slanting down the rear façades of pipework and blackened window
from so much higher up than can never concern us it’s frightening
the morning afer Hopper’s Nighthawks
is closing down

the ones I try to get to
when I find myself done in town (after
the frustration of trying to get somewhere
or the anxiety of trying to get away from a somewhere
that always follows me) but never arrive at; I make
my various ways there, I know the routes
like the back of my hand

the ones with
warped door stuck at the top
or the bottom (will the glass pane hold) with
step onto lino once lemon and grey with new hope
now one with the floorboards as they sag under warren
of backrooms like forgotten lifetimes (wormholes to everywhere) into
the fust and pulp of paper and number all for the finding,
are closing down

I should have
patronised them more, I suppose;
I still haven’t found that second issue, that elusive fourth,
and the stacks just keep sliding wondering other titles and other
universes pressing their sky and moons into my eyeball as I stand
and scan; but I couldn’t keep up, blinked too soon
have to get on, things to do
places to be

it’s having a sale
clearing all the stock; the sentinels stand
impassive with all find, impassive before all loss: hooded
eyes on somefaraway beach; for old times’ sake I pick up some
mid-60s anthologies with their simple figures reaching out of panel
with all the stance of opera, and maybe a sixth issue, and maybe an early
fanzine for some intertextuality, but I’ll avoid the figurines: too
defined in detail, too static
in marque

I’ll come away
with stash held close to my heart
back out into bustle of street busily in all direction
with all the noise of weak indication and strong giant message;
I’ll work my way uphill by quiet sidestreet past high walls that
impossibly hold the looming sycamore and bay-windowed villas
over the river under skies of grey and blue gantry
home to catalogue my finds on the shelf like
a maze and plot their weave in life
like a stanza

 

 

 

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

anxiety & looking & searching & shops wormhole: lo
beach wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
black wormhole: Black Rook / in Rainy Weather
blue wormhole: Buddha / Shakyamuni
buildings & comics wormhole: escape from Flat Planet
doing wormhole: the endless acts of life
doors & sky & time & windows & writing wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
dream & moon wormhole: prayer to my self
Edward Hopper wormhole: Dr Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
eyes wormhole: the Conqueror
glass wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
grey & Victorian houses wormhole: corner of Plum Lane / Eglinton Hill and / Shrewsbury Lane
hill wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 290508 – / the breath of London
identity wormhole: good looking
lemon wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
lifetimes wormhole: now, have I forgotten anything
morning wormhole: hot summer / morning
shadow & walls wormhole: of a sudden // all the time
streets wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts
Thames wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile
trees wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven

 

gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared

Tags

2014, anatta, Batman, beach, being, cape, childhood, cowl, doing, emergence, emptiness, eyes, field, haiku, husband, identity, life, night, parent, Plumstead, sitting, sky, skyline, teaching, waves, windows, writing

 

 

 

                                                            gazing at the night
                                         as my eyes passed the jagged hole
                                                my head disappeared

                                                                                            when it all goes wrong
                                                                      and I am not the person I thought I was
                                                                                      again

                                                                (even when I thought
                                I was the person who had understood that I am not the persons
                                                I would like to be)

                                I am left – clean and confused –
on some faraway beach usually (eventually) looking around for
                new clothes to wear but

                                                potentially (fortuitously)
                I could stand       where I am       and wear the clothes I haven’t got with
                                no shame or embarrassment …

… well, I like to write (from the middle of nowhere); I sit (but still working on the still); I wear the cowl, the cape and the skyline of the Batman; I am stuck in the Plumstead of my emergent childhood; I am (constantly) diffident (except when I think to be a leader); I am parent whose field is wider than the sky; I am husband whose picture is more than the point; I am teacher lower than the waves (cannot cope with the splattering in the eyes and the spluttering out the nose) …

                                                                … in the great wash
                                of life I am of no effect but then everything has happened
                                                because of this

 

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: where the real action // always is
beach wormhole: September – silhouette of leaf // the / inside and the / outside
being wormhole: enjoy the activity
childhood & emergence wormhole: H e a v e
doing & identity wormhole: enjoy the activity
emptiness wormhole: un … able
eyes & windows wormhole: oh,
field & sky wormhole: To my Mum
haiku(esque) wormhole: 1972
life & writing wormhole: Trinity Arts
night wormhole: ‘the red and white …’
Plumstead wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 290508 – / the breath of London
sitting wormhole: (another / gulp of air)
skyline wormhole: in desperation and worthless art
teaching wormhole: career came to naught …

 

September – silhouette of leaf // the / inside and the / outside

Tags

2015, ageing, Alan Moore, beach, cliffs, clouds, duty, Eddie Campbell, friendship, From Hell, honour, houses, leaf, meaning, others, passing, sea, secret, September, silhouette, sky, society, talking, time, twilight, walking, world

                September – silhouette of leaf

                                in time soon passed
                                men walk slowly
                                side by side out
                                from nowhere
                                talking shaping
                                the only portents
                                they knew
                                without guile or
                                ghastly duty
                                bonded by
                                aged to speak
                                safe ever if no one
                                hears of it
                                let it be be

                gathering cloud over clifftop sea and houses

                                tween them
                                and the world
                                the importance
                                of honour kept
                                where twilight
                                covers the
                                whole of sky
                                the balance of
                                importance – the
                                inside and the
                outside

 

askance from the prologue to 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_________________________________|—–

beach wormhole: fully clothed
clouds & talking wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
houses wormhole: new year’s eve 2014; train up to London to / walk the bridges across the Thames, and / listen to the voices say it is, and was, like, / but get back home before the fireworks / obliterate it all in the emptying twilight
meaning wormhole: un … able
others & society wormhole: 1962
passing wormhole: ‘never a dull moment …’
sea wormhole: Vajrapani
silhouette wormhole: great underbelly to the rooftops
sky wormhole: ‘blades / articulate all the lonely height / of the sky’
time wormhole: relapse
walking wormhole: step
world wormhole: Dr Strange VI – to hold my face to the world

 

fully clothed

Tags

2014, beach, Gran Canaria, nude, others, portrait, pregnancy, wind

 

 

 

                                              the beach
                                an open panoply of exposed flesh
                                as much as can be bared
                frills and tassels in the wind

                                                              but there
                                through the bodies and umbrella stems
                                a glorious beach float nine months belly
                fully clothed in a bathing suit

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
others wormhole: 1964
wind wormhole: cold wind

 

tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes

Tags

1960s, 2014, air, Allen Ginsberg, anxiety, beach, cafe, cars, earrings, earth, east, Eastbourne, eating, echo, economics, Eda, education, educational behaviourism, Edward Hopper, eggs, Eglinton Hill, Eiffel Tower, elastic bands, electric, elipse, elm, Eltham, emergence, Emma Peel, employment, emptiness, empty, endeavour, engine, Enlightenment, ennui, Eternity, Europe, evaluation, evening, evidence, exchange, existence, expectation, experience, exploitation, expression, eyebrow, eyes, faces, growth, Have, identity, journey, landscape, life, looking, pointlessness, school, society, sound, tag cloud poem, teaching, time, war

 

 

 

while earrings twinkle
the earth turns inexorably
east

in all the cafés along Eastbourne front
eating happens with clak but no
echo

economics doesn’t explain it
all said Eda* but I didn’t understand her then or now
despite my education

despite the educational behaviourism
I teach in schools of tomorrow’s children creating
life as treacled as an Edward Hopper

look what happened to Ginsberg’s eggs!
the journey from Eglinton Hill
to the Eiffel Tower took ten years

by elastic band and is still incomplete
because the electric was not current,
but elipse, and no one factored that in

well, just look at the elm which
grows into the ground and
only in Eltham is the emergence apparent

and Emma Peel with a face like a plate
in permanent employment modelling different styles of emptiness
but stuck and empty herself within that very decade

I don’t know: the endeavour should never be
the engine because where would you get off
for the Enlightenment?

ennui the constant air of Eternity
drifting across landscape of Europe despite
scar and plenty

the evaluation has still not been made
no matter how late into evening you wait
the evidence will always peel and flake

the exchange will already look to the next
the existence will writhe on the Utah beaches
to tailor expectation like Emperor’s New Clothes

experience is common but not the denominator
exploitation works best when dressed as expression
with only a wisp of anxiety betrayed by an eyebrow

just look deep into anyone’s eyes

 

*Eda was someone I fell soppily in fatuation with during the first year of university, but I was so naïve I didn’t know what it was and didn’t know what to do with it; I still don’t now

 

 

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

air & looking wormhole: on sitting / in front of / a hedge
anxiety & teaching wormhole: what I am about to say is true / what I just said was a lie
beach wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
cars wormhole: cold wind
Eastbourne & Dionne Warwick wormhole: promenade
echo wormhole: 1963
economics wormhole: 20th century
education wormhole: just saying, is all – III
Edward Hopper wormhole: Dr Strange #6-13
Eglinton Hill & evening wormhole: ‘“ruddy crows!” / said my Dad …’
Eiffel Tower wormhole: parc du Champ-de-Mars
emergence wormhole: vagued
emptiness & time wormhole: posture
evaluation wormhole: the View: from Here to the Learning Objective to the Learning Horizon
eyes wormhole: the Buddha head in an antique shop
faces wormhole: titanic
Ginsberg wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
Have & war wormhole: plethora: the Dark Knight Strikes Again (2002)
identity & life wormhole: letters to Mum I – a walk / and talk
pointlessness wormhole: first a mishap then clear vision
society wormhole: introducing / the stranger
sound wormhole: open window
tag cloud poem wormhole: tag cloud poem V – draft-ness

gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared

Tags

2014, Batman, beach, being, cape, childhood, cowl, doing, emergence, eyes, glass, groundlessness, haiku, husband, identity, life, night, openness, parenting, Plumstead, sitting, skyline, teaching, thinking, waves, windows, writing

 

 

 

                                                                                             gazing at the night
                                                                          as my eyes passed the jagged hole
                                                                                my head disappeared *

                                when it all goes wrong
and I am not the person I thought I was
                again

                                (even when I thought
I was the person who had understood that I am not the persons
                I would like to be)

                                I am left – clean and confused –
on some faraway beach ** usually (eventually) looking around for
                new clothes to wear but

                                potentially (fortuitously)
I could stand       where I am       and wear the clothes I haven’t got with
                no shame or embarrassment …

                                … I like to write (from the middle of nowhere)
                                I sit (but still working on the still)
                I wear the cowl, the cape and the skyline of the Batman
I am stuck in the Plumstead of my emergent childhood
                I am (constantly) diffident (except when I think to be a leader)
                                              I am parent whose field is wider than the sky
                                I am husband whose picture is more than the point
I am teacher far lower than the waves (I cannot cope with splattering my eyes and spluttering my nose)

                                … in the great wash
of life I am of no effect but then everything has happened
                because of this

 

* glass
** Brian Eno; Here Come the Warm Jets (1974)

 

 

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

Batman & being & doing & identity & life & night wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
beach & waves wormhole: the ocean
childhood & emergence & Plumstead wormhole: quest in brown
ees wormhole: … sshhh
glass wormhole: window
groundlessness wormhole: rhetorical inevitability inexorable in both immanent dissipation & implicit effulgence
haiku(esque) wormhole: night time
openness wormhole: the empty page:
sitting & thinking wormhole: walking / right into the side of the very door left / open for me
skyline wormhole: skyline of the evenings
teaching wormhole: that’s me / in the corner that’s me in the spot light / losing my religion*
windows & writing wormhole: prologue