we held cold hands

Tags

2018, 6*, acquamarine, airport, bardo, beach, buoy, Carol, clouds, cold, electric, engine, glasses, grey, hands, holiday, horizon, Lanzarote, love, Morecambe, morning, pink, planes, sea, sky, sound, streets, sunset, time, volcano, walking, waves, white

                we walked by the airport with tinted glasses
                flights coming in going out while the

                sun set behind; without tripping
                the waves lapped and swashed as they do

                but broke electric white and fetched
                electric aquamarine all along under

                the gauzy pink and far horizon
                while jet engines cracked their power and

                streets of new villas hung like morning belts
                of cloud before the still-dormant volcanoes;

                finding noway round an air port
                we about-turned to vainly chase the sun

                down; the sea, now, met the sky
                in bardos of grey and buoy, the belts

                of cloud had turned electic, the planes
                taxi’d twice their size before take off and

                we held cold hands through it all
                like first we did in Morecambe decades ago

 

see also: the Last Day of Morecambe Illuminations for the prenouement

 

 

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

beach & sea wormhole: Khandro Tsering Chodron
Carol wormhole: `whappn’d!
clouds & glasses & hands & love & morning & time & waves wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
grey & sky wormhole: THE DESOLATE FIELD by William Carlos Williams
holiday & white wormhole: I don’t need to go out / onto the balcony to see behind me / to know what’s going on
horizon wormhole: mauve
pink wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – old George
sound & streets wormhole: A Solitude by Denise Levertov
sunset wormhole: that
walking wormhole: PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams

 

Advertisements

Khandro Tsering Chodron

Tags

2018, 7*, anatta, beach, being, blessing, breathing, cheek, distance, feeling, fetch, identity, immanence, Khandro Tsering Chodron, Lanzarote, love, sea, shoulders, thinking, touch, virtue, waves

                                that fetch that waved
                                a thousand miles

                                caressed my shoulders
                                smoothed my cheek

                                makes me feel loved
                                and particular; thinking

                                                of Khandro Tsering Chodron
                I wonder of something far

                                far finer that needs no
                                distance to accumulate while

                                there is nobody to mark
                                its touch, spreads spume

                                of love everywhere, all for to
                                breathe and to bathe

 

Khandro Tsering Chödrön (1929-2011) was recognised as a living dakini within Tibetan Buddhism, although she was always uncomfortable with the recognition and resisted being treated as such; she was very influential during her life, not because she taught or was learned or headed an institution, but because she dwelt in (not even exhuded that you might choose to react against it) a blessing and a peace that was completely un-designed, always spontaneous (sic) and as natural as a child’s experience; if anything, she was recognised for her devotion to her Spiritual Guide, even during the 52 years after his death – constant prayer, constant envelopment within the guidance and inspiration given; her presence made it real to believe, and dwell awhile in, the immense power and transformation of subtlety;

 

 

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

beach wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha
being & sea wormhole: I don’t need to go out / onto the balcony to see behind me / to know what’s going on
breathing wormhole: cowl
identity wormhole: TREES by William Carlos Williams
love wormhole: scintillating to mind’s content
thinking wormhole: moon- // washed
waves wormhole: all // are // none

 

om muni muni maha muniye soha

Tags

2015, 6*, beach, body, bones, Buddha, feet, fruit, gods, Gran Canaria, heat, identity, ink, knuckles, leisure, mantra, salt, Shakyamuni, sound, Spanish, stone, story, swimming, toes, water

                hola de nuevo Gran Canaria
                quiet crucible of dimpled buttock
                and all the beach furniture of recline
                balmy Spanish exchanged – warm water
                poured slappingly on hot languid stone

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

                hola de nuevo Gran Canaria
                with your reveal of dark ink identity
                your candid feet with no guile, each toe
                tells a different story to your tread – painted
                toes and slight bones between knuckles

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

                ah, you bodies you slink
                cool and day-glo all about me
                you bath-robe gods high above
                with your salt-water pools and fruit –
                the headland a giant sitting Buddha

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: is there anything to write?
Buddha wormhole: child
feet wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
identity & water wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
sound wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
stone wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”

 

is there anything to write?

Tags

2014, 4*, beach, belonging, eyes, girls, Gran Canaria, Have, innocence, inspiration, looking, men, music, others, passing, pointlessness, toes, trance, walking, writing

                I pick the book up again
                is there anything to write?

                but the mistake of looking around
                for the hook       on the beach

                and all I find is bait: peoples’ toes and
                scars of show the butts and tans of innocence

                the tattoos of belong and the passing music of trance
                the chest-walk of men the eyes-down of girl

                to the bottom of the page
                where I find I have written nothing

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
eyes & Have & looking & music & writing wormhole: concordance
others wormhole: so pleased to see you again
passing wormhole: lime crocs
pojntlessness wormhole: this sodden land
walking wormhole: dear Lucy

 

all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs

Tags

2014, 5*, beach, blue, childhood, children, family, love, marble, memory, reflection, sandstone, sitting, time, water

                all the sandstone
                reflections in the
                marble-blue troughs

                when I was young
                I would fall in love
                with the children

                of families near to
                which we sat for
                hours on the beach

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: twilight / and parasols down / within minutes
blue wormhole: forgotten anything
childhood wormhole: lost and city ground
family wormhole: to rescue something
love wormhole: too greedy
reflection wormhole: dream I // dream II
sitting wormhole: concordance
time wormhole: slightly / uphill
water wormhole: volcanic rock;

 

twilight / and parasols down / within minutes

Tags

2014, 4*, beach, book, Carol, Gran Canaria, hands, head, horizon, knees, leg, lime, parasols, portrait, red, skin, strawberry, twilight, yogurt

                              twilight
                and parasols down
                   within minutes

                Carol lays on the lime mat
                head to the horizon one hand

                scurfing the other holding
                the book open leg out

                straight one knee up perfectly
                skin-red like fraise yogurt

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: the evening
Carol wormhole: I turn to wake up
hands wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build
horizon wormhole: Infantino / district of Gotham
lime wormhole: 1968
red wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
twilight wormhole: writing: // in turn

 

the evening

Tags

2014, 3*, beach, evening, feet, Gran Canaria, light, portrait, sun, toes, woman

                      out-stretched on her side

                           foot poised
                           each toe relax-

                           apart for the
                           sun to shimmer-

                           between the pads-
                           rounded blocking

                      the light before the evening

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: 20th century
evening wormhole: the sitting room
feet wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
light wormhole: … vague / thunder
sun wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket
woman wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build

 

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_________________________________|—–

architecture & mind & sky wormhole: reaching branchbeach wormhole: development
Bodhichitta wormhole: – sigh! –
emptiness wormhole: the policies came to nothing
eyes wormhole: 1964
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:
twilight wormhole: ‘the hour before dinner – / the empire of dusk’ – poewieview #6
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