this time

Tags

2*, Charlotte, driving, fields, houses, identity, openness, passing, time, trees

                this                time

                in the back seat
                driven by Dot
                houses through trees
                open fields turning

 

 

 

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

Charlotte wormhole: love and precision
identity & time wormhole: dream I // dream II
openness wormhole: such such potential
passing wormhole: pass and / fro
trees wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket

 

love and precision

Tags

2015, 5*, Birmingham, blue, Charlotte, daughter, doing, driving, houses, love, precision, red, silhouette, sky, talking to myself, walking

                played with Dot
                hung with Dot; there’s
                a lot to be gained
                from hanging with love

                drove to Birmingham
                walked around dark
                ening redbrick houses
                until we were all silhouettes

                before a Prussian blue sky;
                do the formal stuff
                when you can, absorb
                the rest with love and precision

 

‘Dot’ is my daughter Charlotte; just over a year ago she moved up to Shropshire with her partner; we visit, and sometimes meet in Birmingham for a day

 

 

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

blue & sky wormhole: industrial estate
Charlotte wormhole: dream 230315
daughter wormhole: returning home handsome
doing wormhole: sleep now
love wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow
red wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
silhouette wormhole: was there a moon / on the alleyway wall / confused in front of / the city skyline?
talking to myself wormhole: woven-through
walking wormhole: magnificent salad

 

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

 

‘my Dot …’

Tags

2012, 5*, Brighton, Charlotte, dark, grown up, hair, happy, hill, kitchen, lifetimes, morning, portrait, time, van

 

 

 

                           my Dot
                     gets up at five thirty
                     six mornings a week
                     and watches the high-
                           vis strips
                     of the bin men off to work
                     as she drives the van
                           downhill to deliver
                           the mail to Brighton town

                     she has a Psychology degree
                     but it doesn’t matter because
                     she stands in the kitchen
                           on a day off in
                           her mother’s
                           baggy cords and
                           some brand new
                           long-johns and a
                           chimney pot hat
                           on her showered
                           hair dried all shaggy
                     and she is natty happy with her life

 

 

 

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

Brighton wormhole: losing the anxiety
Charlotte wormhole: dream / 150910
hair wormhole: ‘how beautiful …’
hills wormhole: Sunday
kitchen wormhole: ‘8:30 kitchen …’
lifetimes wormhole: the fingers
morning wormhole: morning
time wormhole: poessay V: // writing / as practice while / writing

 

dream / 150910

Tags

2010, 3*, Charlotte, dream, walking

 

 

 

                                   dream
                                   150910

                     I glanced at Charlotte
                     while we were out talking
                     somewhere and felt so sad
                     what a loss that she had
                     lost her arm from
                     just above her elbow
                     was it my fault?

 

 

 

dream wormhole: dream / 290706
walking wormhole: while / walking
Charlotte wormhole: Charlotte

 

Charlotte

Tags

1996, 3*, Charlotte, Hillside, portrait, speech

 

 

…

                                              Charlotte

                      no more
                      no one was dead

                      he jumped … off
                      the table and the policeman

                      went to work
                      now the bank can open

 

                      he can’t fit in

 

 

 

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

Charlotte & Hillside wormhole: Dottie
speech wormhole: Jonathon

 

Dottie

Tags

1996, 4*, breathing, Charlotte, Hillside, portrait

 

 

 

                           Dottie

                           breathing
                           through her mouth

                           head
                           bent from the shoulders

                           the last
                           piece of fluff
                           from her toe
                           was cleaned
                           then –

                           thump! –

                           the foot
                           thwacked
                           on the floor

 

 

 

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

breathing wormhole: this time
Charlotte wormhole: Charlotte
Hillside wormhole: Jonathon

 

Charlotte

Tags

1995, 4*, Charlotte, Hillside, Jon, portrait, speech, stairs

 

 

 

                                   Charlotte

                     a helium-
                     expelled

          just six-year-old

                                   grunt

                     half-way up the
                     stairs with her

          best twang, “I’m – ungh –

                     just trying to bring Jonny
                     upstairs
                     he’s broken his mouth.”

 

 

 

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

Charlotte & Jon wormhole: dream
Hillside wormhole: tired
speech wormhole: “WHOOOOOOOOOP!!!”

 

dream

Tags

'scape, 2011, 5*, Allen Ginsberg, blue, bus, cars, Charlotte, cream, Eglinton Hill, growth, Jon, Joseph, London, morning, Nan, passing, portrait, roads, talking to myself, writing

 

 

 

                           dream

     spent the morning
                                     visiting
            many parts of London kept noticing
     Allen Ginsberg
            on a bus
                     in a shop
                           crossing the road
            slightly hunched busy
            carrying papers in a wallet
                     maybe shopping
            ordinary tired clothes
     as I keep on seeing him
            maybe I could give him my poems
                     to look at maybe I should
            all of them all five hundred
                           no just some of them

     late afternoon            I am walking
            down Eglinton Hill melting ice-cream light
                     some satisfaction with the day and
                           cream soda
     slowly with my Nan – getting old chatting
            feels like walking with Charlotte
     ahead are cars
            one indicating right to pull out
                     another waiting just behind
                           indicating left he’ll take his place
     both waiting for another coming uphill
                           right of way complicated
            how this all happens
     another car slows downhill
            before the uphill one has still to pass
            he wants to park too but
                     he’d narrow the road cars parked
                           right and left
     he rolls further down and parks on the right
                           much more space
            opposite number 46
                           I wonder if Allen
            is in the car
                     the car is medium blue
                           a good ten years old
                                     tired but working
            filled with stuff only room for the driver I think
     yes it’s Allen getting out of the car
            does he live here
     Nan asks if Assiki is in Malta
            I don’t know but say I think so
                     Allen hears and nods yes
            as we pass – that is where Joe
                     or Jon have got to now travelling

     go on give him your poems
                     don’t walk past and pretend you’re OK
                           give them
            but I am reticent
                           because I don’t like to ask

     fracture into the breakfast room or the upper kitchen
                           cluttered full of stuff
            space for only one at the table
                           Allen has made some tea
            and sits down to turn the pages
                           of my script

 

 

 

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

… part of: nan
Allen Ginsberg & writing wormhole: biography
blue wormhole: daybreak // midday
bus wormhole: Christmas lights / around the lamp post
cars & morning wormholes: looking for Lester
Charlotte wormhole: Charlotte’s / warm / hand
Eglinton Hill & roads wormhole: 1969
Jon wormhole: a night of rum
London wormhole: 1967
Nan wormhole: Initiation
passing wormhole: ‘how ‘do
talking to myself wormhole: and no one would know

 

Charlotte’s / warm / hand

Tags

'scape, 1994, 6*, Charlotte, crane, Cuckmere Haven, orange, portrait, sea, trees, wind

 

 

 

                                                                Charlotte’s
                                                                warm
                                                                hand

                                                                right

                                                on the horizon
                                                by the

                                                                sea

                                                a single
                                                                orange
                                                                crane

                                                holding –
                                                                cables thrumming –

                                                the wide
                                                                land-
                                scape
                                                                swaying

                                                and

                                                to the left a

                                                solitary
                                                family of
                                                wizened trees

                                                held

                                                by decades
                                                                of wind

                                                in a climb
                                                uphill

                                                caps
                                                pulled down
                                                over their heads

 

 

 

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

crane & wind wormhole: gust of wind
orange wormhole: after the rain / flowers like / cupcakes
sea wormhole: ‘discution poli …’
trees wormhole: Thich Nhat Hanh