• 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: film

Christmas 2015

24 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2015, 4*, Carol, Christmas, clouds, film, glance, living, sky, The Tree of Life, thought, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, true nature, view, vow, worry, writing

                Christmas 2015

                paced a day with Carol like a spread of cards
                walked under cloudy skies, watched the thoughts
                behind the glances of ‘Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’;

                stopped worrying enough to write: I renew
                the vow to mix all that I live with its true nature;
                watched the view of glances in ‘The Tree of Life’

 

 

 

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

Carol wormhole: out
Christmas & thought wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
clouds wormhole: city streets
film wormhole: just
living & writing wormhole: before any writing
sky wormhole: river

 

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just

07 Monday Aug 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

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Tags

2014, 3*, boundary, dusk, eyes, film, freedom, horse, looking, meadow, morning, mountains, waiting

                just

                                crouching
                from mid-morning until gathering dusk
                                not moving
                                                drying
looking deep across the meadow with no boundaries but the mountains
                into the horse’s eyes who
                                just doesn’t
                                                run
                                                free

 

film: ‘The Horse Whisperer’, 1998

 

 

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

eyes wormhole: free
film wormhole: divergent // direction
looking wormhole: dream I // dream II
morning wormhole: make your rickety / constructs strong with / unbending grids / of attention and wide- / open grates of let
waiting wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation

 

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divergent // direction

14 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2013, 6*, attention, being, CGI, control, distraction, echo, film, growth, identity, life, movement, naked, nerve, observing, reputation, self-compassion, self-love, sequel, sitting, society, sound, static, thought, waves

                it’s not just the oh-ho naughty thoughts
                that really shouldn’t but burst through
                ta-dha because you can’t stop them yet
                (secretly don’t want to, yet)

                it’s not even the oops echoes and sequels
                of each sprain and twinch that ached
                and deadened a sense of naked self, no
                it’s the thousand little nerves and waves

                the stylish static of the over-working CGI
                that test and flash the Dolby sound before
                the titles roll and the big names appear it’s
                all of that wide wide widescreen that needs

                      the love of incorporation
                      not the surroundsound of
                      stereo or the left and right
                      eyes watching in divergent

                      direction

 

 

 

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

attention & distraction & sitting & society & sound wormhole: nevertheless
being wormhole: facing the crime section
echo & life wormhole: the quiet whale
film wormhole: spit / spot
identity wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page
thought wormhole: Virginia
waves wormhole: do I

 

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spit / spot

30 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2013, being, childhood, Dad, doing, expectation, father, film, forgiveness, identity, life, Mary Poppins, pointlessness, questioning, speech, work

 

 

 

                                went to see ‘Saving Mr Banks’ and
                                learnt that Mary Poppins didn’t

                                spit to save the children but
                                spot to heal the father

                                went to bed wondering
                                if I should forgive Dad for being

                                far less than the perfect that I have
                                also failed to be to make up for

                                the pointlessness left all behind and
                                around in all the rubble of questioned lives

                                but I still don’t want to go to work
                                tomorrow and I don’t think I ever will

 

 

 

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

being & doing & identity wormhole: no point
childhood wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
Dad & father wormhole: sit
film wormhole: New York Movie, 1939
life wormhole: bookmark
pointlessness wormhole: Saturday
speech wormhole: bamboo-green boiled sweet / with soft purple filling
work wormhole: Office at Night, 1940

 

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New York Movie, 1939

26 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

1939, 2015, Bowie, cinema, columns, Edward Hopper, film, horizon, meaning, people, pointlessness, woman, years

 

 

 

                           New York Movie, 1939

                           the column must be carved and grandiose-
                           enough to hold the height of proscenium
                           despite the worried contemplations of the

                           usherette that it is colossal-enough for the
                           lost horizons washed grainy across the screen
                           for she has watched it ten times or more

 

 

 

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

Bowie & horizon wormhole: south horizon
Edward Hopper & years wormhole: Office in a Small City, 1953
film wormhole: The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …
meaning wormhole: Detective Comics #345
people wormhole: mauve / night
pointlessness wormhole: recovered
woman wormhole: zok! and pow!

 

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The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …

19 Wednesday Aug 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

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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

 

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I need to keep my eyes open / in meditation

29 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

2013, 6*, awareness, being, blogging, eyes, film, identity, letting go, life, meditation, mind, music, reading, swim, tide, world, writing

 

 

 

                                              I need to keep my eyes open
                                                              in meditation

                                could it be
that the majority of my noble pastimes
                the reading writing blogging music film
                                              all of them
                are great wide comforting pools to slip into        and
                                              submerge myself
                                away from the awkward fit of
                                                              my
                                                              mi
                                                              nd’
                                                              s s
                                                              elf
                                              in the whole of the world
                                where nothing fits together        like concrete rip-rap

                wouldn’t it be better
                                to climb out of those
                                              amniotic pools and swim
                                instead
                                              through the thousand awkward angles
                (that define me defeated
                                and adversarial to them all)
                                and start standing
                                              o n
                                              m y
                                              own
                                              two
                                              feet
                                with each incoming tide?

 

 

 

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

awareness & reading wormhole: a light rosé
being & eyes & identity wormhole: Dr Strange IV – ellipses
film wormhole: four-colour pulp into cinematic di[gital]pix[el][live ac]tion so easily makes for semantic palava (if you read what I mean) … the foredreading of Dr Strange
letting go wormhole: thinking wide enough
life & world wormhole: Dr Strange III – the needs of billions
meditation wormhole: – sigh! –
mind wormhole: prologue
music wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
writing wormhole: poised patiently for / hours

 

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four-colour pulp into cinematic di[gital]pix[el][live ac]tion so easily makes for semantic palava (if you read what I mean) … the foredreading of Dr Strange

29 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in announcements

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Tags

Batman, comics, David Lynch, Dr Strange, film, Gene Colan, genre, occult, reality, Steve Ditko, Steve Englehart, translation, transliteration, world

Hello everyone.   Batman is a special character for me (because I cannot be certain if I am not Batman), and, I didn’t particularly like the recent Nolan trilogy of films!!!   They had the elements of the character all there but made him way too blatent in delivery.   It just all read wrong.

The translation of character and story from one genre to another takes SO MUCH more than just transliteration!   Everything that grew and worked and contextualised in four-colour panel, everything that filled that form and then manipulated it to reach beyond itself to become transformative [art], everything that emerged during the 1960s (and there is a whole, American history that nurtures the bloom of Marvel and DC during this decade and the next); all this needs to be deconstructed and re-realised to make it anything more than a literal, phonetic transliteration which doesn’t enable anyone in any way to speak a different language … anyway, I digress,

I hear that another seminal character of mine is being put to film – Dr Strange.   I once put a pitch about filming Dr Strange to the Longbox Graveyard but he laughed me back into the box (if you make the link you can read his ripost – I like the guy, but he has dollar signs as pupils).   I still like the pitch, however:

Dr Strange operates in worlds which are ‘mystical’ in the sense that they function within natural laws and forces which are alternate to our own – they are worlds which we just don’t get and it would be better for us that we didn’t know about them so we can continue functioning ourselves.   And yet Stephen Strange is of and from this world – he is all too human but has mastered the Mystic Arts.   He therefore lives between the two worlds – the physical/political and the occult worlds – or rather he lives amid at the same time.   He is ‘strange’ because he bridges these two worlds, and this is the central pull of the character for me.

In comics the ‘occult’ world was depicted fantastically (the floating-island footsteps of Ditko, the swirls of Colan) because it was a visual medium meant for younger audiences (growing up); but the occult world doesn’t so much ‘look’ strange (like a childishly re-arranged physical world), in fact it isn’t even a different world it is the same world ‘seen’ (and ‘heard’ and ‘felt’ and acted in) differently.   What was equally attractive about Dr Strange (and under-used in the comics) was the depiction of the character in ordinary, recognisable surroundings but knowing he was actually operating in a world out of the space-time continuum.   I would conceive that Strange’s ‘battles’ took place while he was strolling through a park, while walking on the street, in the blink of an Eye (herm).

I once heard David Lynch talk about how he achieves his perspectives in his work is by ‘filming through the eye of a duck’ meaning that he doesn’t just film ‘lineally’ he films simultaneously/alternately – he shoots a scene/whole films which physically depict one narrative but which affectively show an alternate landscape in which they play out.   What better ‘mise-en-scene’ist than David Lynch to depict the life of a character who has ‘mastered’ the arts of living bridged across two worlds-in-one?   No need of CGI, no need of costumes, not even much need of action!   I know, I know, not the ingredients for your standard summer blockbuster money-maker.   But they have been done and will continue to be done under their own momentum.   Dr Strange, as you mention, has always been a peripheral character because he is so … strange.   Perhaps this would be time to make a different take on the comics-to-film translation formula …

Anyhoo … I would like to steal some of the hype and hollywood on the project by publishing a series of poeviews on the character taken from a run of issues of Dr Strange from the mid-1970s written by Steve Englehart and drawn by Gene Colan … they’ll be falling like leaves over the next few weeks

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tag cloud poem VII – form new freedom:

05 Sunday Oct 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2014, 4*, faces, faith, fall, family, fate, fence, field, film, flagpole, floodlights, floorboards, flow, flowers, flying, fog, Folkestone, footsteps, forest, form, freedom, friendship, frustration, funding, furniture, future, life, tag cloud poem, trees

 

 

 

faces of all faith
                           fall like a family

                           the fate of a father in fear
                           feeling the fence around the field

                           the film, finding fir, lingers over treetops
                           the fire takes the flagpole; the floodlights take the floorboards;

                           flow often  flowers when flying through fog
                           while Folkestone listens to footsteps of distant forest

                                                      form new freedom:

                                                                                 friendship out from frustration
                                                                                 funding all the furniture of future life

 

 

 

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

faces wormhole: I could step / more open
family wormhole: Tulips by Sylvia Plath – How Far To Step Before You Raise The Other Foot
father wormhole: Sylvia
film wormhole: the fingers
fir wormhole: the straight line of stones marking the geometry / of death / settle all their own levels over time to make / a new rhythm
flow wormhole: no quota too empty / no fate to fulfil
fog wormhole: 0.42
life wormhole: breathe it all / in
tag cloud poem wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
trees wormhole: sunny morning

 

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the fingers

09 Sunday Dec 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

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Tags

1968, 2001, 2001: a Space Odyssey, 2012, 6*, bone, computer, evolution, film, fingers, life, lifetimes, mind, monolith

film: 2001: a Space Odyssey (1968); directed: Stanley Kubrick; actors: Keir Dullea

 

 

 

                                                   the fingers

                            that the ancestor touched and withdrew
                                                   and sniffed and worked over
                                      the monolith

                            that the leader closed around the bone
                                      to feel the length-weight
                                                                   and reach of shard and dust

                            that the astronaut let linger
                                      draped and tentative yet gloved and sealed
                                                   across the edge of the monolith

                            that the cosmonaut worked
                                                                   to release each level in turn
                                      and pressure of the computers mind

                            that the terminal human empty in survival and longlife
                                                   lifted failed and feeble to hold
                                      the floating monolith

                            were never balanced graceful or noble
                                                   as they felt the next right-angle
                                                   of mind

 

 

 

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

1968 wormhole: 1968
film wormhole: There Will Be Blood (2007)
life wormhole: slipstream
lifetimes wormhole: strangers
mind wormhole: first dog / in the park

 

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… 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
  • taking birth
  • mirror
  • long / road
  • ‘in my car I pass…’

Uncanny Tops

  • me
  • Moebius strip
  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
  • 'the practice ...'
  • 'I can write ...'
  • like butterflies on / buddleia
  • meanwhile
  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • under the blue and blue sky

category sky

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tag skyline

'scape 2* 3* 4* 5* 6* 7* 8* 20th century 1967 1979 1980 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 2019 acceptance afternoon air Allen Ginsberg anxiety architecture arm in arm attention awareness Batman beach beauty bedroom being birds birdsong black blue Bodhisattvacharyavatara books Bowie branches breakdown breathing breeze brown Buddha buildings career Carol cars change child childhood children city clouds coffee shop colour combe end comics communication compassion compromise crane creativity curtains dancing dark death distraction divorce doing doors dream Dr Strange earth echo Edward Hopper Eglinton Hill emergence emptiness evening eyes faces family father feet field floorboards garden Genesta Road girl giving glass gold grass green grey growth haiku hair hands Have hedge hill hills history holiday hope horizon house houses identity kitchen leaf leaves lemon letting go life lifetimes light lime listening living London looking lost love management managerialism mauve meaning mind mist moon morning mother mouth movement Mum muse music night notice open openness orange others park passing pavement people performance management pink Plumstead poetry pointlessness politics portrait posture power practice professionalism purple purpose quiet rain reaching reading realisation reality red requires chewing river roads roof rooftops samsara sea searching seeing settling shadow shops silence silhouette silver sitting sky skyline sleep smell smile snow society sound space speech step stone streetlight streets sun sunlight superhero table talking talking to myself teaching teaching craft Thames thinking thought time train travelling trees true nature university voices walking walls water waves white William Carlos Williams wind windows wood Woolwich words work world writing years yellow zazen

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