• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • 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
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
    • William Carlos Williams
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • wormholes

mlewisredford

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

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: block

on facing the Have

01 Tuesday Jan 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2018, 7*, being, block, blue, bone, cause and effect, change, choice, clothes, clouds, Darwin, death, depth, discipline, doing, dream, drifting, economics, emerald, extermination, faces, government, green, grey, hats, Have, head, hills, hinge, humanity, identity, iron, kiss, life, loss, making, mud, music, neck, peacock, photography, power, quotidian, river, roof, settlement, shadow, Shrewsbury, slow, society, statue, stone, streets, tectonic plates, time, trees, violence, walls, war, watching, water, woman, World War, writing

                bone to stone drifting
                catastrophic slow

                lee to face-ward drifting
                shadow to quotidian

                suggesting life
                only when settled

                under branch of roof;
                noticeable change

                comes at the price
                of sheild and pike:

                death-mask disciplined
                to the painted face

                open to the very depth
                of loss, later settled

                to economies of
                plea, barter and

                proliferation of fact
                artisaned superfluous

                to being – faces fixed
                in leer the rest of

                born days, where
                animals are skinned

                under abnegated face,
                where stone walls

                turn green, staining
                clothing and where the

                emerald poise of head
                and neck watches

                the peck of open flay, all
                “exterminated by

                 slow acting and still
                 existing causes …”

                … time begins
                to tick – well it had to

                start somewhere – and
                with time cometh writing

                and with writing the
                topography fades from

                hill-wide face to
                pock-mark street and settlement

                all fitted ingeniously
                with raised wall over arch,

                high to unresolved descant
                always left in minor;

                the woman bends
                to the laundry before

                the rush of water
                released from the mill:

                power is only explicit
                when blocked and

                channelled, tree to
                gable with date

                and signature, silk
                to valence with

                drape of repose and spreading peacock dream;
                so, is there choice

                of governance: cut
                through from neck to child;

                you stay unnatural-still
                your image will be caught,

                you turn, and your
                head will disappear,

                you climb the wall
                and stand still, you

                stay in the mud yard
                and stand still, … only

                hats stay constant, cast-
                iron flanges reach

                from cast-circular
                hinges, woven to corset,

                slave to youth; the
                memorial stone,

                painfully-carved,
                reflects the blue

                of grey cloud, under
                posts of wire

                the death-etched
                face stoops to kiss

                the face of
                wholly mud

 

291218 – spent the afternoon at the Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery to tread time from immemorial to the First World War; the quote is from “Thinking Path” by Shirley Chubb (2004), an exhibition that explores the life and legacy of Charles Darwin, an artwork and series of installations inspired by Darwin’s daily ritual of walking the same path at Down House; “Shadow Stories”, an animated short film by Samantha Moore is not directly referenced but weaves about the whole perambulation; references include the Roman conquest, medieval, Civil War, and industrial exhibits, up to the Open Art Exhibition commemorating the 100th anniversary of the First World War

 

 

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

being & clouds & doing & identity & power wormhole: The Passage of the St. Gothard, 1804
blue & woman wormhole: SPRING AND ALL XI by William Carlos Williams
change & streets wormhole: to let be
death wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
dream wormhole: THURSDAY by William Carlos Williams
economics & society & walls & war wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Trees
faces wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Cows
green & shadow & trees & writing wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
grey & time wormhole: La Route de Louveciennes, 1870
Have wormhole: SPRING AND ALL VI by William Carlos Williams
life wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
music wormhole: JANUARY by William Carlos Williams
river wormhole: quiet river
roof wormhole: breakfast
stone wormhole: early // Minoan & Mycenaean Exhibitions in the British Museum – diptych
water wormhole: SPRING AND ALL I by William Carlos Williams

 

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in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell

16 Tuesday May 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

'scape, 2013, 8*, attention, Belgium, block, breeze, circular poem, clouds, Ghent, leaf, living, looking, lost, notice, park, path, preoccupied, reaching, searching, seeing, settling, shops, sitting, trees, undergrowth, writing

 

 

 

                                              stuck
                         lost and                         for  something
            preoccupied                                  to write
             and shops                                         I am
            past trees                                             usually plagued
             as I drift                                               by clustered
  I am looking at                                 in the belly-heavy
to see everything                                         Citadel
            stopping me                                  rainclouds Park
        my subconscious                         idling                     a leaf
                                            through                                           new
                                                                              ly fell to                         for the
                                                                        the path                                    constant search
                                                                 the breeze                                           reach for the
                                                     worries the top                                                 more to
                                                          of the trees                                                     deal with
                                                          constantly                                                       more to
                                                          but lets the                                                     they have
                                                        undergrowth                                                  it seems
                                                              settle itself                                             when they reach                                
                                                               comfortably                                      it’s only
                                                                         into its seat                         unnoticed
                                                                                                 alert and

 

 

 

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

attention & looking wormhole: Day Out
breeze & clouds & seeing wormhole: weight
circular poem & sitting wormhole: wakeoutofadream
living wormhole: nothing significant
park & path wormhole: the bench
searching wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
settling wormhole: six paramitas
shops wormhole: time travel
trees wormhole: within
writing wormhole: Virginia

 

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block ‘n’ role

10 Thursday Sep 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2013, block, compromise, future, identity, keys, recognition, role, sound, speech, work

 

 

 

                                block ‘n’ role, so

                here we go
I’ll just put myself under this pile of somewhere
                                without anyone knowing and only slightly suspecting
                I’ll even compromise myself inside and
                                              throw away the key
                                now, I can’t say fairer than that, (and
                                              I’m already doin’ m’self outta bob or two)

                                patterns of the past
                                              plans for the future
                and the only hint that I am
                                ever here: disconcerting clink of chains

 

 

 

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

compromise wormhole: mass
identity wormhole: thy will be done
recognition wormhole: Trinity Arts
sound wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925
speech wormhole: I do
work wormhole: dream 230315

 

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Black Rook / in Rainy Weather

05 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2013, anxiety, black, block, library, notebook, open, rain, reading, rook, Sylvia Plath, weather, writing

 

 

 

                                I sat with the date
                                and the open page
                trying to channel an effect through the objects around me
                                pen poised

                                nothing happened
                                but a little anxiety
                I put the book aside and picked up the Collected* instead
                                next one: Black Rook
                                in Rainy Weather

 

* Sylvia Plath: Collected Poems, Faber, ed. Hughes; to get the double serendipity: Black Rook in Rainy Weather

 

 

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

anxiety wormhole: un … able
black wormhole: dream 260713
open wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile
rain wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
reading wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
[Sylvia] Plath wormhole: [start where you are III] – delve
writing wormhole: the stance of Buscema // qualitatively

 

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getting rid / of old books

03 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2012, 4*, block, books, evolving, reaching, reading, settling

 

 

 

                                                      getting rid
                                                      of old books

                                I had kept
                or am reading now
                                which seemed
                                to offer
                                a find

                                but don’t
                                or didn’t
                c’mon now
                                either they’ve got it
                                or supply it
                or they don’t

                                and
                if I need to evolve
                                before I crack them
                then I need to evolve
                                rather than hang on to them

                blocked on my shelf

 

 

 

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

books wormhole: the strange mauve relief of / this burgundy-gritty encounter
reading wormhole: all the while / the flagpole rope / occasionally flaps / the breeze
settling wormhole: a maturation

 

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waiting

04 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2008, 5*, being, block, creativity, identity, talking to myself, writing

 

 

 

            stop waiting

                           for the time
                           when it all falls
                           together to write
                                                      anything

            haven’t had a creative discovery for ages haven’t been
            seduced into a green-wine find for such a long time
                           like tripping and finding you didn’t fall
                                          and actually you caught yourself
                                                      right – oh! – there

                                                                      anyway

 

 

 

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

being & creativity & writing wormhole: I will
[writer’s] block wormhole: “write, let’s break / outta here!”
identity wormhole: indignantly
talking to myself wormhole: pep talk

 

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“write, let’s break / outta here!”

02 Sunday Dec 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2012, 5*, abandonment, beauty, block, compromise, creativity, growth, writing

 

 

 

                                          “write, let’s break
                                              outta here!”

                           stuck in compromise a-foreclosed
                           I need to break out I need to
                           create something strange and
                           beautiful too hideous to contemplate
                           and abandon it in order that it
                           digest into my everyday construction
                           rags around the base of a steel wall

 

 

 

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

[writer’s] block & writing wormhole: poessay V: // writing / as practice while / writing
beauty wormhole: ‘fallen and injured …’
compromise wormhole: everything
creativity wormhole: instinct

 

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poessay V: // writing / as practice while / writing

01 Saturday Dec 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

2012, 8*, acceptance, awareness, block, breathing, distraction, growth, identity, inclusion, lifetimes, metaphor, poessay, sitting, time, vindication, writing

 

 

 

                                              poessay V:

                                              writing
                                   as practice while
                                      writing

          I cannot always find
                      the Right Moment to write
          I cannot always find
                      the groove enough to breathe
          usually because I am not awareing
                      something within me
                      circulating as if blood of its own
                      while I am still chasing
                                   some dream of vindication

          just sitting has taught me so far
                      that it is difficult to just sit
                      because of the whole chapters
                      of backstory and echo
                      that stain the mind blind
                      of the most infant awareness of being
          and the practice of just sitting
                      is to antidote the stain
                      by saturating the awareness
                      through each and every chapter paragraph
                                   word letter and breath

          when stuck in writing –
                      pen poised stare off pick head
                      until I manually bring my pen
                                   back onto line –
          instead I should aware the vagueries as they occur
                      and widen my writing to include them
                      and thereby resolve them
                                   as I write …

                      there
          after the last ‘write’        (… no, no that would be too obvious …)
                      I spent a whole career
                      with the litany of hurt
                      in long scrolls of account
                                   so far away
                      from what I was writing
                      so intent on the vindication
                      that I didn’t see it build up
                      until it burst into the room
                      and took my ink away
          if I was alert I would have included it with wide metaphor
                      to become the point I was making
                      or rather widened the point
                      to include the true intent that I
                      hadn’t yet fully realised

          writing words in their succession
          is like being aware while sitting
                                   in that
          the words widen to include the vagueries as the awareness does too
          but neither the awareness nor the writing
                                   go with
                                   the vagueries
                      they just watch them

                      in both practices
          I need to let go the investment and desperation
          of my tin-pot identities and insistences
          and fling my arms wide to embrace them all
                      each and every one

 

 

 

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

acceptance & lifetimes wormhole: slipstream
awareness & breathing wormholes: on holiday
[writer’s] block & vindication wormholes: the writing’s / on the wall
identity wormhole: now
poessay wormhole: poessay IV
sitting wormhole: ‘I am a secret / superhero …’
time wormhole: Sunday
vindication & writing wormhole: the writing’s / on the wall

 

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the writing’s / on the wall

20 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2012, 5*, block, growth, Howl, pointlessness, superhero, talking to myself, vindication, walls, writing, zazen

 

 

 

                                                   the writing’s
                                                   on the wall

                                   I can be becoming lost for weeks
                                   unable to release to exciting
                                   foiled in creativity even by my breath
                                   unable to waltz or askance as I promise myself
                                   held by the very wall that materialises
                                   precisely where I thought to move
                                   again

                                   because there is something closer than my retinas
                                   in me which I cannot see
                I cannot see
                                   because I am hanging on
                                   to the last shred of dignity
                                   the last white hope
                                   and this makes me so blind that
                                   I cannot even see the walls at my toe
                                   before I swing my foot to kick and
                                   I cannot even see the walls
                                   in my cranium
                                   before I blink

                                                   so
                                                   little
                                                   beauty
                                   to stumble over
                                   stood in inertia no matter how busy
                                   I become no matter how much I do without looking

                                                                      it’s the writing
                                                                      no it’s the tidal lunging for vindication
                                                                      no it’s the reminder
                                                                      the reinforcement
                                   that I am powerless in a pointless universe
                                   in which I still want to emerge the hero
                                   brandishing the latest sheaf of sublimity
                                   (even if not on the rooftops waving my genitals)

                                   so what do I do
                                   do I stop it all now and snap out of it
                                   do I make myself sit for hours of balming penance
                                   do I slap my wrists for wanting to publish
                                                   no Mark
                                                   here’s a pen
                                                   and here’s the line
                                                   and here’s the wall
                                                   to write on ready-
                                                   conceived

 

 

 

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

[writer’s] block & talking to myself wormhole: sit. / In. / g …
superhero wormhole: ‘I am a secret / superhero …’
vindication wormhole: twisted / pulled / and chipped
walls wormhole: sun low / from behind
writing & zazen wormhole: instinct

 

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sit. / In. / g …

04 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2012, 7*, awareness, block, boredom, career, ennui, growth, identity, sitting, talking to myself, zazen

 

 

 

                                     … and still here I am
                           with yet another crash around my ears
                           and many poems all proclaiming
                                     the solution – I know I know

                           and I am still not listening
                           but then I suppose
                                     I am not going to stop
                                     just like that
                           I have been operating with ‘maybe this time’
                           for at least fifty two years
                           in fact I ought to be pretty good at it by now

                                     nope

                                              of course not
                                     if anything I am left behind
                           by younger ones with more energy
                           for ‘maybe this time’ than me
                           I am just too stuck on getting recognition
                                     and after a half-century of no recognition
                                     I want vindication as well

                                     still I receive neither – how slow can I be
                           that I do not recognise
                                     it        won’t        come
                                              it cannot come
                                     especially when I knew it wouldn’t
                                     all along

                                     yes
                                     I need to sit
                           yes of course that is the answer
                                     but I do not move beyond
                           even the first wave
                                     of lack-of-adrenalin
                                     of boredom
                                     of this non-maybe-this-time
                                     of this unrelenting ennui
                           I sit feeling stuck in the same old problem
                                              so I may as well run the ‘how dare they’ again
                                     and then it’s the end of the session
                                              get up read a book write a poem
                                              got nowhere

                                              but look
                                                         it is that very lack
                                     that boredom that ennui
                           just sit in the middle of it all
                                              right in the centre of the paddling pool
                                     that very feeling that puts me off
                                              that very feeling
                                                         that I have built my life and identity away from
                                     that very feeling
                                              I must sit.
                                                     In.
                                                 g …

 

 

 

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

awareness wormhole: juxtaposition
[writer’s] block wormhole: relationship
career wormhole: dream / career / 040712
identity wormhole: Batman 168
sitting wormhole: honest
talking to myself & zazen wormhole: Big Mind

 

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← Older posts

… 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
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Uncanny Tops

  • me
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  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
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  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • under the blue and blue sky

category sky

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