was there a moon / on the alleyway wall / confused in front of / the city skyline?

Tags

2014, 5*, action, Batman, cape, city, connection, faces, light, moon, plants, shadow, silhouette, skyline, thinking, trees, walls

                was there a moon
                on the alleyway wall
                confused in front of
                the city skyline?

                the rising moon over the city
                makes action detached,
                the figure lost in silhouette
                but for highlighted cloth-crease
                and pad of shoulder

                whereas indoors
                the silhouette is lightened on body and wall
                and shadows appear
                across the face of thinking men
                while potted plants look on
                in foreground and detail

                the journey from city to house
                is between two trees as the moon descends
                you need simply lean in lunge and cape and arm
                and you’re there
                under the sole arc of light
                clashing outlines of silhouette
                interconnected and enlightened

 

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: the / bright yellow / world
city wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Safe Home
faces wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – mmpph’
light wormhole: AT-tennnnnnnn – waitfrit waitfrit – SHUN!
moon wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – moment
shadow & skyline & trees wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – … as the new town marches in
silhouette wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – A Precious Moment
thinking wormhole: like ink – poewieview #23
walls wormhole: the 19th century

 

the / bright yellow / world

Tags

2007, 5*, Batman, blue, cape, childhood, emergence, head, karma, running, society, world, yellow

 

 

 

                                   through the
                                   bright yellow

                                   world ran
                                   Batman

                                   rising out of
                                   BATMAN

                                   his head locked
                                   in the great

                                   cape held up
                                   behind him

 

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: “Darling” – poewieview #28
blue wormhole: the policies came to nothing
childhood wormhole: the figure “46” / in frosted glass
emergence wormhole: 1963
society wormhole: one day / in 1956
world wormhole: a crack of lightning / in the dark of night
yellow wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – the soft canticle of the gourds:

 

sit

Tags

2010, abandonment, ageing, Batman, bedroom, being, biography, birthday, books, border, branches, cape, carpet, cars, Catcher in the Rye, childhood, children, comics, compassion, counting, cowl, crying, Dad, divorce, father, flower, fog, fracture, French, green, guru, history, house, identity, image, leaf, life, living room, lyric, marriage, moonlight, Mum, music, night, numbers, parents, pattern, planets, posture, power, Salinger, self-compassion, sentient beings, settee, shadow, sitting, skyline, speech, stone, sunlight, superhero, Superman, surrealism, talking to myself, teaching, wife, world, writing, yin yang

 

 

 

                           I stared at the pattern of the carpet
                           driving my cars behind the settee
                           while my parents said final things
                           to each other; the twirl of the branches

                           a better life, the curl of a flower;
                           you’d better go, the border; and
                           never step back in this house again,
                           the shadow of the leaf is also a

                           darker green; I had never studied
                           the pattern before – never had to,
                           never could – I can work it out now,
                           see how it repeats; I think something

                           is happening with Mum and Dad
                           on the other side of the settee; but
                           this pattern continues around the
                           whole carpet, around the whole room;

                           only later – in bed – is it announced
                           what I had already known, and only
                           then could I ask why does it have to
                           happen to us and cry; only when it

                           was announced, only when it was
                           expressed; I had already known
                           but I could only count the patterns,
                           I could only drive the cars; and

                           as I cried, I was numb – pattern
                           before settee – I could fracture
                           from the world, just find a pattern;
                           you’re the man of the house now,

                           someone said to me, so I studied
                           the pages of comicbooks – patterns
                           of power, solving under cowl,
                           jumping under cape, between the

                           skyline and the world: I shall
                           throw stones high, until they
                           don’t come down; I shall dig so low
                           that no one could follow, no;

                           I shall count all numbers; I shall
                           collect all numbers; I shall
                           discover all planets; I shall adopt
                           the posture of heroes, no; I shall

                           number the histories; I shall weave
                           the texture of music; I shall taste
                           the shock of lyric; I shall smell
                           the books, no; I shall sunlight

                           the chorus; I shall cry the biography;
                           I shall see the image, and write them
                           into existence, yes; I shall follow
                           the curl and the twist and the twirl

                           under moonlight all the night long;
                           then, I shall play catch in the rye;
                           I shall alors les boulevards; I shall
                           yin the old yang; I shall surreal in

                           the fog; I shall honour my guru
                           I shall marry my wife; I shall father
                           my children; I shall teach in those classes –
                           but forty two years on, he had still

                           just left; and I still didn’t know how
                           to be the man; time to get out from
                           behind the settee, take a seat with
                           all the others, and
                                                  just
                                                  sit there with them all awhile

 

 

 

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

abandonment & divorce wormhole: … back to the outbreath
Batman wormhole: zok! and pow!
bedroom & Dad wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
being & identity & talking to myself & world & writing wormhole: out!
books wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
branches wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
carpet wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47
cars wormhole: after all?
childhood & music wormhole: fantasia
comics wormhole: Detective Comics #345
compassion wormhole: de Boeddha // of light
father wormhole: sight / seeing
fog wormhole: my life / of others
green wormhole: three musicians
history wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
house wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925
life & speech wormhole: “write, let’s break outta here!”
living room wormhole: Woolwich Central – making life better II
Mum wormhole: dream 230315
night wormhole: mauve / night
posture & sitting & superhero wormhole: exactly equal
power wormhole: the continental stride of trains
shadow & teaching wormhole: … anymore
skyline wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
stone wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
Superman wormhole: escape from Flat Planet

 

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 …

 

whirlpool

Tags

2013, attention, Batman, black bat, breathing, cape, cowl, fingers, identity, letting go, red, sky, thinking, tornado

 

 

 

                                                      whirlpool

                                agh
                I’ve fallen into a whirlpool
                created by an oil-dark tornado
                whiplashed through the haemoglobin sky

                                quick
                I will spread my cape
                and throw my arms wide
                reaching allwhere with still fingers
                my utility belt is useless
                I need to think deeply in my cowl
                that the ears stick up to no avail

                                of course
                that’s the answer, it’s easy when you know how
                my eyes look downwards
                                and I travel down through the whirl
                                and remember to hold my breath

 

originally published in the Poetry Jar 310513; with thanks to Bruce Ruston

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–
attention wormhole: day off
Batman wormhole: Bat-Shadow
breathing wormhole: oh-pen too
identity & letting go & red & thinking wormhole: I could step / more open
sky wormhole: oh-pen

 

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

 

wha’

Tags

2012, anatta, Batman, breeze, buildings, cape, city, emptiness, moon, orange, rooftops, space, streets

 

 

 

                                                              wha’

                                Batman stepped right past
                cape billowing one wing furled over the other

                                between apartment block
                cornice and rooftop on empty space across the wide street

                                a mission in mind
                on the other side of town under the orange moon

 

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: I don’t know what to do …
breeze wormhole: let
buildings wormhole: 220712
city wormhole: bad sneakers
emptiness wormhole: gradually finding
moon wormhole: adversely / mistaking the finger for the moon / again
orange wormhole: the library, / you know …
rooftops wormhole: how hard / to meditate
space wormhole: Saturday

 

I don’t know what to do …

Tags

2013, abandonment, Batman, breakdown, cape, cowl, echo, identity, living, night, pointlessness, silence

 

 

 

       I don’t know what to do …

       … I will be the strong one
       I won’t let it affect me I will always be
              quiet and secret
creating wonders never to behold in the night of day

       all to dampen the echo
                     the abandonment
                            the pointlessness

              absorb it and
              give form to it
              through my constancy
              I – will – be – constant

       and hope that will be enough –
              the cowl amid
              the swirling cape

 

 

 

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

abandonment wormhole: the early morning of the sixties
Batman wormhole: point of realisation
breakdown wormhole: ashramas
echo & night wormhole: aladdin sane
identity wormhole: not fact
living wormhole: trinary
pointlessness wormhole: where is there a Middle Way when you want one … / … / … oh!?
silence wormhole: tiered