‘the practice …’

Tags

2017, 6*, arm in arm, being, blossom, Bodhisattva Vow, colour, compassion, finding, growth, identity, journey, others, practice, requires chewing, root, Sangha, sharing, true nature, weaving, writing

                the practice
                of writing

                to weave
                myself between

                the threads, to
                thread myself

                between the
                fibres to form

                tiny root hairs
                to form the root

                to reach deep
                and to reach

                high and wide
                to glory in the

                synthesis of
                all the light

                to be found
                to be found

                colourful and
                blossoming to

                my own true
                nature; and that

                others, sibling
                to my reach

                and wonder,
                might find the

                growth to
                journey too

 

lookit: `found this one in my notes; possibly four years old; forgotten I’d had it; found stuck like a leaf between BCA I,3; not sure if it reminds me of the quote, top left of the web page, that I put there to remind myself … sure, on reflection, it does; how can I not: offer it up, and out

 

 

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

being wormhole: sweet chestnut
blossom wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
compassion wormhole: eyes like petals
identity wormhole: under the blue and blue sky
others wormhole: silence
practice wormhole: so, how long is, a piece of string?
writing wormhole: ‘not sure …’

 

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blister on me thumb

Tags

2018, 6*, being, breathing, cold, day, distraction, finding, growth, hope, inspiration, looking, money, need, not knowing, notebook, purpose, shelf, step, talking to myself, teeth, thrill, walking, windows, zip

                blister on me thumb
                so I did the zip right up

                to walk around the cold day
                to look for finds that I

                knew I no longer need
                nor even the thrill of find

                what I hadn’t known
                was there let alone the

                inspiration that I think
                to hold the day worthwhile

                while yet the outbreaths
                follow the in- without

                step or hope under my
                very nose, and I make

                from window to shelf
                distracted the while by

                tugging the zip back down
                over the separated teeth

                before I can reach for
                wallet or note-pad

 

 

 

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

being & windows wormhole: ‘… plane is upright …’
breathing wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pigs
distraction wormhole: JANUARY by William Carlos Williams
looking & walking wormhole: THE LONELY STREET by William Carlos Williams
talking to myself wormhole: only

 

lost the search

Tags

2017, 5*, books, doors, finding, leaves, life, prospect, recognition, retirement, searching, streets, wind

                I seem to have
                lost the search

                for book and
                fame never

                sure I found
                it always prone

                to enticement
                and prospect

                in maybe are
                now wind-swept

                door-entries
                where leaves

                collect and the
                paint blisters

 

 

 

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

books & recognition wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation
doors wormhole: snapshots about Totnes
leaves & wind wormhole: … the underleaves show
life wormhole: the balance necessary between
retirement wormhole: agreed termination without prejudice
searching wormhole: hold them
streets wormhole: mauve

 

with all love released

Tags

2016, 8*, air, anatta, birdcall, blue, breathing, Buddha, change, civilisation, dark, earth, echo, finding, glow, groundlessness, impermanence, inspiration, karma, letting go, looking, lost, love, purple, red, shadow, shelf, time

                I still look for you on the
                shelves and by the way

                head tilted to one side
                feeling in the shadows

                under foliage between
                stems for something lost

                shining darkly red
                pushing up through

                purple earth – fold of
                blue shadow – I knew

                you’d be here somewhere
                without remembering

                where I’d let you go,
                mutated through cycle

                as wax will wane; and
                I know when I find you

                I’ll notice the glow
                where it shouldn’t be

                obvious when discovered –
                I knew it! – but now

                my daylight groping is
                done; I have found no

                ground to stand on
                I must let you go again,

                my friends, and face
                the only task … alone

                I could track back
                through centuries of

                millennia and tectonic
                inch and breathe the

                same air, amid forming
                civilisations, the only

                air replenishable, as
                the man who strolled

                through parklands and
                birdcall, all possible

                echoes collapsed, and
                I could breathe that

                same heir both in and
                out with diminishing

                return dispersing the
                hanging proliferation of

                ténèbres hautes and
                redoubtable as they may

                seem, as known as I
                am not, with all love released

 

 

 

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

air & Buddha wormhole: Sheffield Park Gardens
blue & time wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
breathing & letting go wormhole: travelling // arrival
change wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – reaping
echo wormhole: looking / ridiculous
groundlessness wormhole: 1964
looking wormhole: between
love wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
purple wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
red wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
shadow wormhole: low afternoon

 

found

Tags

2014, 4*, buying, coffee shop, conformity, finding, Have, hidden, life, looking, purposelessness, sitting, society, town, writing

                I’ve seen those looking
                for what they don’t have
                around town and flaunting
                whatever they have got    desperately

                I’ve seen those hiding
                all that they have
                in town in conformity
                and brightly-coloured trousers

                and I have sat
                in the coffee shop writing about them both and
                neither three of us have found
                what we’re looking for

 

 

 

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

coffee shop wormhole: immeasurable love
Have wormhole: clear as vista
life wormhole: cape and cowl
looking wormhole: is there anything to write?
sitting wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
society wormhole: circuitry
writing wormhole: at table 21 in the garden centre thinking to / replicate Hughes’ exercise for Plath about / the Yew Tree

 

place

Tags

2014, 7*, capitalism, child, doing, doubt, earth, energy, finding, gentleness, groundlessness, hair, hands, hope, leading, letting go, London, lurch, market, placement, precision, seeing, shift, sound, streets, thinking, vindication, waves, weight

                      not seeing
                      the energy
                      shift and wave
                      underneath

                      I flex in all the
                      wrong places to
                      ground my own
                      earth to stand

                      on, there, there
                      is the precision
                      but then I easily
                      despise my hope

                      and put on weight
                      far too quick to
                      judge and lurch
                      toward vindication

                      it’s just ‘thinking’
                      that makes it so
                      a toddler’s head
                      chatters by your side

                      just let them all be
                      let their bouncing hair
                      be gentleness to the
                      palm of the hand but

                      don’t take them by
                      the hand to lead them
                      through the streets
                      of London, there’s

                      nothing to find in found
                      and always there are
                      smiling deals to make,
                      letting go, in the market

                      place

 

 

 

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

capitalism wormhole: miss / ad / venture – poewieview #22
child wormhole: municipal garden
doing wormhole: holiday
groundlessness wormhole: the quiet whale
hair wormhole: and I lose sight of her into memory
hands wormhole: twilight / and parasols down / within minutes
letting go wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build
London wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
seeing & thinking wormhole: time
sound wormhole: Tara mantras
streets wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
vindication wormhole: the writing’s on the wall
waves wormhole: concordance

 

a nice grey woollen picnic blanket

Tags

2013, 6*, Ashdown Forest, blanket, Bodhisattva, cars, children, driving, feeling, finding, grey, responsibility, roads, safety, sentient beings, sun, talking to myself, teaching, trees, warp, weft, wool

                                              OK
                                I think I get it:
                a nice grey woollen picnic blanket

                                I found the grey
                when crossing the road for the umpteenth time
                                safely

                                I felt the wool
                when I finally allowed that cars will keep driving
                along the road, well where else could they
                                go?

                                I suspect
                that there might be a fascinating check design
                in the warp and the weft but I am too busy
                to explore this now backward and forward across
                                the road

                                there
                are some trees and a sunny glen over there
                I can spread the blanket wide and enjoy
                the meal I carry heavy on my back there
                right after I have crossed my hundred thousand children
                                safely

                                one
                by one as they pop up to the side of the road, w-hupp, here’s
                                another one

 

 

 

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

Ashdown Forest wormhole: memorial
cars wormhole: municipal garden
grey wormhole: every step I take
roads wormhole: 1968
sun & trees wormhole: while
talking to myself wormhole: free
teaching wormhole: ‘let them slide off …’

 

facing the crime section

Tags

2013, 6*, being, bookshop, finding, notebook, perspective, poem, remembering, wanting, writing

                I’m out
                I’ve remembered my notebook
                I’m sat in the book shop
                (facing the crime section)
                wanting too much to have…
                    …found the lean out|      |from which the
                                or the crevice|      |perspective will…
                                              reveal the poem
                                      to remember where I am enough
                                                                           to find it

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: nevertheless
bookshop wormhole: dream / 221297
writing wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page

 

languidly close the portal

Tags

1964, 2016, 5*, anemone, carpet, curtains, doing, Dr Strange, ellipsis, eyes, finding, Greenwich Village, light, pink, quiet, Sanctum Sanctorum, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, Strange Tales, tree, window frame, windows

        the Eye in Greenwich Village
        casts elliptic light

        across drape and carpet
        striated by frame – but

        he finds what he needs
        under bough of quiet tree;

        in the hostel room, light
        was triangular and leaning

        but when came time to act,
        the sole witness, pink

        anemone in branching shrub,
        saw the beautiful eyes

        languidly close the portal

 

held within from Strange Tales #118 outwards, ‘The Possessed’, March 1964; Lee & Ditko

 

 

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

carpet wormhole: carpet worn / to the backing – poewieview #30
curtains wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – moment
doing wormhole: magnetic field
Dr Strange & windows wormhole: fresh destiny
eyes wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Safe Home
light wormhole: the purple mist between
pink wormhole: coagulating
quiet wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – I suddenly / remembered

 

opening

Tags

'scape, 2013, allowing, architecture, art, bay window, being, finding, found, grey, high, Italianate, marble, open, opening, piano, searching, Sevenoaks, shape, sky, sound, Spring, stucco, suburbia, Victorian houses, windows

                                the art to finding
                                is not in the searching
                                but in the allowing

                                or opening to what
                                is to be found as spring
                                sounds like bay windows,

                                stucco, and Italianate
                                overhang of a late
                                Victorian villa under

                                high-marble grey sky in
                                suburban Sevenoaks from
                                which the faint idle

                                tinklings of a piano
                                shape through a let-open
                                window

 

 

 

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

allowing wormhole: my life / of others
architecture wormhole: crease and score of silver-morning sky
being wormhole: becoming
grey wormhole: where the goblins leered – poewieview #14
open wormhole: Grizedale College
piano wormhole: ‘the hour before dinner – / the empire of dusk’ – poewieview #6
searching wormhole: thick thick fog
sky & windows wormhole: stacked
sound wormhole: the sounds of 1969 // [would have] seemed that way – poewieview #13
Spring wormhole: 50 mph
Victorian houses wormhole: gotcha