retirement

Tags

2017, 7*, air, blood, career, face, feeling, identity, managerialism, mist, movement, murder, professionalism, retirement, smile, speech, table, teaching

                           retirement

---

                                     .                                      ,                                           .

                           ,                .                                                                                     ;                                                 ,                                                                                     .                       –                 .

                ,             ,                                                       ,  “                                                                     ,                                 ”,         … there

---

                           had been a murder
                           I could feel it all around me and
                           it wasn’t just because there was

                           mist all about – suggested movement,
                           sudden stop – and there is
                           no body

                           that I can see
                           no speech balloon of blood
                           from a face’s final cry

                           but a gentle air
                           where the table is that I
                           use to pound my fists

                           and a swirly smile
                           that told me so, dispersing and
                           unattributive

 

retirement #6: here it is, the full story in all of its salacious detail; restricted strictly to those over 18 years of age – warning: graphic violence, with scenes of intent unattribularity

 

 

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

air & mist wormhole: 1968
career & teaching wormhole: holiday
identity & smile wormhole: six paramitas
managerialism wormhole: dry rot
professionalism & table wormhole: while
speech wormhole: so pleased to see you again

 

hinged – From Hell ch. V

Tags

2015, Alan Moore, architecture, awe, birth, black, blood, chimney, dark, diptych, drawing, encounter, From Hell, generation, grey, history, ink, living, morning, pediment, pillars, privacy, sky, society, steeple, sunrise, windows

 

 

 

                                                              somewhere
                                              amid the pediments and private windows
                                              that make such things inevitable
                                a conception was made
                that would wash the steps and pillars with awe and blood
                                              for tens of cascading generations

                                                              all the while
                                              the stations of toilet and repose
                                              are observed with due quotidian solemnity
                                by both the Righteous and the Have Nots
                until their ineluctable encounter through askance
                                              diptych panels

                                                              nevertheless
                                              and always    hinged    conceive
                                              darkness clinging around
                                steeple and chimney like black-hatch etching
                until light feels its way through the sky again making everything a grey
                                              ink-wash

 

askance from chapter five of From Hell by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell; architecture always ever is so much more than trim, being the solidified air of encounter between Disraeli’s ‘two nations’ that still breathes to this day; I’m sure Victor Hugo said something about this at length in the beginning pages of Hunchback of Notre Dame, but I can never seem to find them

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_________________________________|—–

Alan Moore wormhole: what heavy and cantilevered structure
black wormhole: ‘the hour before dinner – / the empire of dusk’ – poewieview #6
chimney wormhole: crease and score of silver-morning sky
grey & sky wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
history wormhole: the sounds of 1969 // [would have] seemed that way – poewieview #13
living wormhole: quite … / … yet – poewieview #12
morning wormhole: quick inventory after coffee
society wormhole: just saying, is all IV: // lost
windows wormhole: opening

 

The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …

Tags

2014, blood, cog, decades, film, Francis Ford Coppola, hair, Have, identity, loss, mother, mouth, naked, power, sound, The Godfather, tragedy, ugly

 

 

 

                                                                 The Godfather III:

                                                                           long
                                                                 silent         cry
                                   mouth open ugly naked
                                                 power gone

                   and every cog of every decade caught
                   on the same piece of rag coiled around each tooth
                   limp bloody and hair-fallen in her mother’s arms

                                                                                              … … …

                                                         … … …

                … … …

                AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …

 

 

 

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

film wormhole: I need to keep my eyes open / in meditation
hair wormhole: the tangles fall apart
Have wormhole: the lines are not that straight / after all
identity wormhole: dream 230315
mother wormhole: sight / seeing
mouth wormhole: sitting
power wormhole: the Conqueror
sound wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting

 

hinged

Tags

2015, Alan Moore, awe, birth, blood, buildings, dark, doing, Eddie Campbell, From Hell, generation, grey, ideas, light, others, sky, society, time, windows

                                                              somewhere
                                              amid the pediments and private windows
                                              that make such things inevitable
                                a conception was made
                that would wash the steps and pillars with awe and blood
                                              for tens of cascading generations

                                                              all the while
                                              the stations of toilet and repose
                                              are observed with due quotidian solemnity
                                by the Righteous and the Have Nots
                until their ineluctable encounter through askance
                                              diptych panels

                                                              nevertheless
                                              and always    hinged    conceive
                                              darkness clinging around
                                steeple and chimney like black-hatch etching
                until light feels its way through the sky again making everything a grey
                                              ink-wash

 

askance from chapter five of 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_________________________________|—–

Alan Moore & buildings & sky wormhole: ha ha ha
doing & time & windows wormhole: purpose
grey & light wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
others wormhole: September – silhouette of leaf // the / inside and the / outside
society wormhole: the four whores of the apocalypse

 

‘“Never,” said the Sandman; / he blinked …’

Tags

1980, abandonment, blood, blue, cars, Dad, driving, maroon, rain, sound, speech, streets, traffic lights, walnut, yellow

 

 

 

                “Never,” said the Sandman;
                                he blinked

as the overhead drizzling traffic lights changed
                yellow;

                jerking flib-flub of the windscreen wipers
                                flapped

                                in his stomach; the great wide street
                                              sspunnnn

                past; I remember the deep maroon of his car
                                flaked

                                off the bonnet when he said, “I’ll try again; I’ll try again
                                              I’ll try again …”

                                and the walnut dashboard clicked blue;
                                                              blue-ink blood

                                                              in the folds of my sweating
                                                                                 palms

 

 

 

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

abandonment wormhole: letters to Mum IV – healing comes in smiling
blue & rain & streets wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
cars wormhole: no cars / no planes
Dad wormhole: letters to Mum V – carrying on in duty and love
maroon wormhole: celebrate
sound wormhole: 1967
speech wormhole: ‘hello old friend …’
traffic lights wormhole: waiting room
yellow wormhole: Dr Strange III – the needs of billions

 

letters to Mum III – ongoing-term // eventually

Tags

1970s, 1998, 2014, blood, cancer, childhood, death, family, giving, hospital, laugh, letter, letting go, life, living, Mum, reality, Ryokan, speech, teaching

 

 

 

Dear Mum,

                                finally
                I sit down to write –
too much draining into reserve too much exhaustion of voice controlling 30 pupils in a class; this job of constant give and demand leaves me slumped and inert, little use to anyone …

                … your illness, the hospital
                the cancer in your blood
                the ongoing-term shock

                watching you audit your life
                watching you simplify a life
                already simple, coming back
                to terms with it again and again

                now you are back in hospital
                because of a cold –
this is not something to be sorted with a little rest and a Lemsip –
                it won’t ‘be over’ at all will it but rather
                fought through better and worse
                (all the struggles of the last year
                 not in vain but in reality)

(in the 70s we saved up for the smallest things; things went wrong – we even got burgled! – (I saw you, you kept our worry to yourself) but then you ‘tut’d up a ‘this won’t do’: a good laugh all together in our house at what we had left –
                Ryokan’s moon* –

                eventually)

                love,

                Mark

 

 

*Daigu Ryokan (1758-1831): ah, the thief / left it behind – the moon / at the window

 

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

part of the ongoing life and page of … Mum
childhood & death & living wormhole: letters to Mum I – a walk / and talk
death & Mum wormhole: letters to mum II – family // like a grate
giving wormhole: poessay VIII: / educational behaviourism
letting go wormhole: the precision // the gentleness // and / the letting go
life wormhole: our life
reality wormhole: poessay VII: // true revolution
speech wormhole: g’morning
teaching wormhole: the Telescope

 

Saturday

Tags

'scape, 2013, 7*, being, blood, breath, career, Carol, cathedral, clouds, conservatory, doing, dream, faces, feet, fly, kitchen, legs, love, menopause, mouth, muse, period, roof, Saturday, silence, sleep, snow, sound, space, sun, sunlight, tired, toes, wind, windows

 

 

 

                                Saturday

                                              my busy girl
lays on the settee in the conservatory feet up
                on the arm

                                              the plastic roof
cracks as it expands from the sunlight columns from
                through the clouds

                                              the occasional wind
blows the bamboo silently outside but the clouds don’t move
                like a cathedral

                                              a fly
intermittently worries around looking for a way through
                the solid space

                                              another crack
but nothing disturbs her breath in mouth open
                out for

                                              she is tired
from the lists erasing and replenishing scribbled on the
                kitchen cupboard door

                                              tired from
a menopause that delivers her fortnight-long periods
                loosing blood

                                              tired from
a dream career where you cannot pick up objects no matter
                how hard you try

                                              arms folded
across her tummy feet and legs crossed tanned
                with perky toes

                                              through
the window the sun falls like a dust of snow over
                the landscape

                                              let her sleep
anointed beautiful across her face her chest and
                her shin

 

 

 

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

being & doing wormhole: you fail
C wormhole: portrait … // … reading
career wormhole: you don’t talk to me
cathedral wormhole: flat
clouds wormhole: promenade
conservatory wormhole: as
dream wormhole: red / red / air
faces wormhole: August / Adventure
feet wormhole: poetry
kitchen wormhole: 1977
love wormhole: covert being
mouth wormhole: just
muse wormhole: thar she perched
roof & snow wormhole: from the / bedroom / window
Saturday wormhole: relief
silence wormhole: at the apex
sleep wormhole: the pleasant land / of counterpane
sound wormhole: greeyn
space wormhole: patronage
sun & wind wormhole: the sun / in a clean / industrial / sky
windows wormhole: from the / bedroom / window

 

midnight

Tags

'scape, 1980, 4*, blood, blue, divorce, feet, grey, lamp post, night, pavement, pink, streets

 

 

 

          midnight

     the
     blue
     van
     glided
     across
     the grey
     street –

     little pink feet pattered through
          his mind –

     under the lamp post
     blue blood diluted the pavement

 

 

 

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

part of >>> through the crash
blue & streets wormhole: ‘”Never,” / said the Sandman …’
divorce wormhole: ‘big cheeky smile …’
grey wormhole: ‘”plink” …’
lamp-post wormhole: … Saturday arrived
night wormhole: watching / the mind / breathing
pavement wormhole: lifetime
pink wormhole: window open

 

‘“blck” “blck” …’

Tags

'scape, 1980, 4*, blood, cars, dashboard, divorce, green, grey, red, roads, sound

 

 

 

      “blck” “blck”
          “blck” “blck”

     the little green light on the dashboard

     coloured green blood
     from the little looped vein
     over his forefinger
     as the fuel-gauge finger
     rested in red

          (his hand jumped nervously
           on the steering wheel
           the gear stick wobbled
           and the road turned into
                 grey porridge…)

 

 

 

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

part of >>> through the crash
cars & divorce wormhole: ‘”Never,” / said the Sandman …’
green wormhole: ‘the old chair rocked …’
grey wormhole: 1964 – open window
red wormhole: ‘the red and white bollard …’
roads & sound wormhole: ‘at night …’

 

‘”Never,” / said the Sandman …’

Tags

'scape, 1980, 5*, blood, blue, cars, divorce, maroon, passing, rain, speech, streets, traffic lights, windscreen, yellow

 

 

 

     “Never,”
     said the Sandman

     he blinked
     as the overhead drizzling
          traffic lights
                changed

     yellow;

     jerking flib-flub
     of the windscreen wipers
     flapped in his stomach;

     the great wide
          street
          sspunnnn
     past

     I remember
     the deep maroon colour
     of his car

     flaked off the bonnet
          in the rain
          when he said

     “I’ll try again
      I’ll try again
      I’ll try again…”
     and the dashboard clicked
          blue

     blue-ink blood in the folds
     of my sweating palms

 

 

 

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

part of >>> through the crash
blue wormhole: ‘the dining room …’
cars & yellow wormhole: ‘at night …’
divorce wormhole: Manhattan 2012
maroon wormhole: ‘hovering …’
passing wormhole: ‘at night …’
rain wormhole: Eglinton Hill
speech & streets wormhole: Woolwich re-generation
traffic lights wormhole: eldorado