• 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: flying

the missing chord // the now-silent seagull

18 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

'scape, 2016, angle, architecture, birdcall, buddleia, chimney, chords, decades, Eastbourne, fire-escape, flying, gliding, hotel, keyboard, seagull, silence, sky, time, yard

                                                   the missing chord

                           spotted high and gliding from somewhere out the picture
                           down in the delivery lane between the seafront hotels –

                                          the heights of decades passed
                                          with stacks and chimney pots
                                          held motionless over long-
                                          vanished keyboard above the
                                          crescendo of utility rooms and
                                          fire-escape at all angles –

                           sinking down to the yard wall, the switch of buddleia that’ll do nicely
                           reached back up to glide home somewhere in the heavens

                                                   the now-silent seagull

 

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: Le Pont Royal, 1909
buddhleia wormhole: like butterflies on / buddleia
chimney & hotel wormhole: B le tch l ey P ark
Eastbourne wormhole: and that’s where I are
seagull wormhole: now, have I forgotten anything
silence wormhole: fine
sky wormhole: 1967
time wormhole: bloogying

 

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suddenly fly off again

06 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2014, birds, conservatory, depression, flying, letting go, roof, sound

 

 

 

                           “low moods
                come like birds on the roof”
                           they step
                           and scrape about
                           pecking at
                           the moss
                and throwing it clump on the conservatory
                           roof will
                           they damag:-
                suddenly fly off again

 

 

 

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

birds wormhole: up here
conservatory wormhole: I do
depression wormhole: poessay X: soul love – poewieview #2
letting go wormhole: no point
roof wormhole: … the discipline of shamatha / the waft of vipashyana
sound wormhole: ‘the hour before dinner – / the empire of dusk’ – poewieview #6

 

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heirloom – break / after heavy shower

06 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2014, conservatory, flying, glass, light, Mum, rain, rainbow, seagull, silver, sun, vase, windows

 

 

 

                                     heirloom – break
                                     after heavy shower

                                     is that a silver seagull
                                     that reached a height then

                                     dropped and swooped
                                     muted and salt-downed

                                     or did it just catch rainbow-
                                     glints from my mother’s

                                     cut-glass vase on the table
                                     in the conservatory windows?

 

 

 

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

conservatory & rain & windows wormhole: prologue-ing
glass wormhole: ‘a spark from the empty light socket …’
light wormhole: Trinity Arts
Mum wormhole: letters to Mum VI – Years / after you have gone. Still.
seagull wormhole: we’re born // to die
silver wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
sun wormhole: “King …”

 

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tag cloud poem VII – form new freedom:

05 Sunday Oct 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

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 edges of my reach

07 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2012, 7*, branches, buildings, childhood, doing, dream, fear, flying, grass, hills, life, responsibility, sitting, sky, streets, trees

 

 

 

                                   the edges of my reach

                                   what is the meaning
                                   of the huge building
                                   so big miles away
                                   that it seems so close
                                   and only thirty floors
                                   high across the street

                                   that when I realise
                                   its distance I cannot
                                   look up I cannot look up

                                   when young I couldn’t
                                   look up I just stood at
                                   the foot of the building
                                   the moving sky would
                                   make it fall would make
                                   everything fall if I looked –
                                   terrible responsibility

                                   when I was older I found
                                   my way onto ledges half-
                                   way up I’ll have to step I’ll
                                   have to step the abyss down
                                   as the chasm is up when
                                   down I have got nowhere

                                   then I climbed the grassy
                                   hills bold enough to clump
                                   the holds and maybe bound
                                   to find the incline become
                                   vertical I cannot continue
                                   I have to hold tight tight
                                   to the ground will the grass
                                   hold me

                                   once I found I could fly –
                                   held my hands together
                                   and directed – but found
                                   myself in the top branches
                                   of the tree which couldn’t
                                   hold my weight

                                   and then I wake up and act
                                   when probably
                                   I should wake up and sit

 

sequel to I glimpse above the rooftops

 

 

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

branches wormhole: tag cloud poem III – the journey to BEING and back again
buildings & dream & life wormhole: I glimpse above the rooftops
childhood wormhole: the sounds the difficulty and the long long strands of liquorice
doing wormhole: Do Nothing Usually / Take Everything Regularly / Consider It All Clearly / And Step Aside It Waltzingly
hills wormhole: King of the World
sitting & sky wormhole: 25% scaffolding & rope
streets wormhole: practising
trees wormhole: rhetorical inevitability inexorable in both immanent dissipation & implicit effulgence

 

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song

22 Wednesday Aug 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

2011, 7*, adapting, being, flying, growth, Have, identity, sitting, work

 

 

 

                                song

          the wealth of having nothing
                                which I had thought I had
                      but now no longer need
                                          to protect
                                and keep

          I have no works and creations
                                I have just done work
                      and written some things
          I have all sorts of grand ideas
but I am just writing these words
                      that is all
                                          that is all

                                          to sit
          uncalculatedly a-target-fully
                                sufficiently
                                          so grounded so meshed so
                      spaced-at-the-centre-of-any-construct-for-it-to-be-a-construct
                                even if only for ten minutes even at all
is so fundamental is so weighty
                                where even a lifetime’s endeavour
                      is just so much static

          so much to have
                      in the very absence of having
                                something worth having
                      so much to lose in the endeavour of acquiring
                                          so much anxiety in having

                                remain remain
                                always always
                                remain
                                with what is
                                and here

                      there is constant veering banking
                                                      spin
          there is always falling away
                                but remain
                      with what is actually
                                and always         flying
          gaining nowhere
                                                      in an endless endless sky

                                          how refreshing
          using the very abstract          that has fogged my life
                                I extract myself
                                          out of the abstract
                      not by charting my way back on course
          but by incising my experience
                                          back into my mind
                                                      back with the thread
                      going nowhere
                                          but here

 

 

 

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

being & sitting wormhole: thawing
Have wormhole: anxiety of option
identity wormhole: calm down
work wormhole: ‘I become better and better at sitting …’

 

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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 …

  • ‘the practice …’
  • under the blue and blue sky
  • sweet chestnut
  • ‘she shook the sweets …’
  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • meanwhile
  • a far grander / Sangha
  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara: Chapter VII, Joyous Effort – verse 8; reflectionary
  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara: Chapter VII, Joyous Effort – verse 7; reflectionary
  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara: Chapter VII, Joyous Effort – verse 6; reflectionary & verses 3-6 embroidery

Uncanny Tops

  • Moebius strip
  • me
  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'I can write ...'
  • meanwhile
  • like butterflies on / buddleia
  • covert being
  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • start where you are I
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