for / the first time

Tags

2015, 4*, awareness, cream, facade, grey, hearing, housing estate, open, rain, reading, realisation, thought, time, windows

                it just rained,
                I heard it through
                the open window,

                the washing’s on
                the line, ah, let it
                stay; the rain

                stopped, I just
                realised looking
                up from the

                book seeing the
                cream facades
                and contrasting

                greys of the new-
                build estate for
                the first time

 

 

 

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

awareness wormhole: every step I take
grey wormhole: Bexhill 140215
open wormhole: open window
rain wormhole: … vague / thunder
reading wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
realisation wormhole: amid
thought & windows wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
time wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?

 

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municipal garden

Tags

'scape, 2013, 7*, Bakewell, branches, breath, building, bus, cars, child, clouds, coach, finials, garden, green, grey, hearing, morning, parent, passing, pigeons, pink, roses, speech, traffic, trees, voices

                                municipal garden

                pigeons along the ledge
                below the finials of the municipal building
                heads collapsed down into their shoulders

                the grey clouds convene
                from all across the morning
                the hangdown branches variously shuffle

                the municipal dustcarts and buses –
                      sorry not in service –
                the livestock carriers the plant carriers
                      and the coaches
                make their careful turn across the
                      mini-roundabout
                and all the cars cannot be seen but
                      are heard behind
                the long screen of pink rose bushes
                      constantly

                ‘can we go on the grass?’, ‘no’,
                inevitable as the next breath ‘why?’
                upturn voice ‘because you’re not allowed’ …

                … ‘why is it so green?’ the pigeons
                flock variously down to under the trees
                forming perfect rounds of pecking heads

 

 

 

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

branches wormhole: ssreet chak-chak
breath wormhole: just saying, is all VIII: keeping up toxic appearences
bus wormhole: 1968
cars wormhole: Luton // couldn’t make a poem out of it
child wormhole: ‘quick – she’s gone to pay …’
clouds & garden & green & morning & trees wormhole: garden
grey wormhole: handsome
passing wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
pigeons wormhole: embodying
pink wormhole: the skyline
speech wormhole: mother and daughter
voices wormhole: singsong chant

 

words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25

Tags

1970s, 1971, 2016, bed, Bowie, brick, buildings, cartoon, clouds, flats, form, guitar, hearing, height, litter, music, park, passing, pipes, shops, silence, sky, step, suburbia, trees, wind, words, world, writing

                           lying still enough in the quiet of bedclothes
                           you can hear the pops in the sky as the
                           clouds settle and the resolve of form as

                           the trees are passed, all big-flared steps
                           through the park like the coming cartoons,
                           into the suburbs, (across the globe), but

                           always back to the room above the shops
                           under height of building pipework and the
                           block of flats, where the brick and grime

                           ignore the swirling litter … but then later,
                           among strumming, the words tumble like
                           boulders, each to their own defining clunk

 

settled throughout: Holy Holy, 1971; Oh! You Pretty Things, 1971; Fill Your Heart, 1971; How Lucky You Are (Miss Peculiar), 1971; Hang On To Yourself, 1971, after the dust

Read the collected movements in David Bowie: Movements in Suite Major

 

 

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

1971 wormhole: 1971
Bowie & buildings & wind wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
clouds wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
guitar wormhole: 08:55
music wormhole: well,
park & trees wormhole: 1963
passing & silence wormhole: 1965
shops wormhole: crease and score of silver-morning sky
sky wormhole: 1968
words wormhole: my // shell – poewieview #19
world wormhole: tong len / the inauguration of another – timely – butter fly effect / taking and giving
writing wormhole: need

 

really

Tags

2013, boy, Brighton, eyes, gesture, hands, hearing, hill, nasty, passing, phone, portrait, posture, smile, speech, surprise, swan, talking, thinking, walking, writing

 

 

 

                           coming this way
                           down the steep hill
                           a little man, a boy really,

                           taking bigsteps wide
                           keeping ‘is un-laced trainers
                           on cos’ee was too busy

                           living to tie ‘em up
                           on the phone, arm poised
                           hand like a swan’s head

                           ‘til ee makes a point;
                           will he say it was ‘like’
                           two or three times

                           within earshot his eyes
                           are slightly bulging now
                           steps even wider (‘as he

                           shat isself), no, smile,
                           satisfaction, ‘it was like’ –
                           arm out hand opening like a petal –

                           ‘The Journey of the Stars’; so,
                           I had to write it all down although
                           I’m not yet sure why

 

really; there are some things I don’t like about myself – and for good reason … by some time I’ll realise what they are

 

 

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

Brighton wormhole: ‘from under the awning …’
eyes & smile wormhole: organ / sunlight in all our eyes – poewieview #11
hands wormhole: three musicians
passing wormhole: Grizedale College
posture wormhole: because
speech wormhole: crescendoeing cascade of chordage – poewieview #10
talking wormhole: currency: / assent for statement – / ‘smakin’alivvin’
thinking wormhole: new garden
walking wormhole: 1966 … actually sic // of it allllll-bsssssssh – poewieview #8
writing wormhole: ‘my best writing happens …’

 

mauve / night

Tags

1979, 2015, connection, eyes, faces, hearing, lifetimes, mauve, night, others, people, silence, talking, walls, white, windows

 

 

 

                                          mauve
                                          night

                                          people
                                          talking

                                          white
                                          walls

                                          when
                                          through

                                          the tall
                                          windows

                                          a single
                                          golden

                                          howl blew
                                          silently

                                          outside
                                          no one

                                          heard but
                                          everyone

                                          turned to
                                          recognise

                                          the call in
                                          common

                                          from all
                                          our various

                                          lives and
                                          back to each

                                          others’ faces
                                          and eyes

 

 

 

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

eyes wormhole: ‘from under the awning …’
faces wormhole: the Conqueror
lifetimes & walls wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
mauve wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
night wormhole: for goodness’ sake
others wormhole: recovered
silence wormhole: my life / of others
talking wormhole: dream 230315
white wormhole: three musicians
windows wormhole: 1963

 

now, the verticals go down as well as they go up

Tags

1970s, 1980s, 2015, alley, architecture, awning, buildings, chimney, city, colour, Daredevil, dark, dawn, drawing, Edward Hopper, form, Frank Miller, ground, hearing, height, identity, landscape, leisure, listening, litter, notice, orange, rain, rooftops, seeing, shops, silhouette, sitting, snow, sound, streetlight, streets, suburbia, tarmac, vertical

                now, the verticals go down as well as they go up

                                the form of
                                architecture
                                is drawn
                                by rain

                                streetlights
                                merely cast
                                the silhouettes
                                of dawn

                                in the 70s
                                and the 80s
                                the shops
                                opened late

                                like Hopper
                                landscapes
                                foretending
                                leisure

                                sleet down
                                an alley when
                                there are things
                                to be done

                                (cab waiting
                                with the meter
                                running) but
                                when it snows

                                it is time to sit
                                on a ledge and
                                listen to all the
                                muffled sound

                                below; lighted
                                billboards and
                                the uplit facades
                                of monoliths

                                above the
                                chimney stacks,
                                only when
                                sprung from

                                girders can you
                                hang foetus-like
                                above the roof-
                                tops; let all the

                                striving height
                                recede back
                                to the ground
                                it stands from

                                assassins and
                                bounty hunters
                                proceed colourful
                                and silent by the

                                dark rooftops
                                of old town
                                suburbia, only
                                the blind devils

                                leap the burning
                                awnings more
                                bright than day,
                                where only one

                                will notice from
                                the street, and
                                yet the fantastic
                                storeys of

                                orange-corporate
                                building rise
                                ineluctable
                                behind all

                                borough, seen
                                but not heard;
                                except for the
                                litter of paper

                                trailing the collateral
                                dance across tarmac
                                and paviours, hardly
                                noticed, but ever indulged

 

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925
buildings wormhole: dream 260815
chimney wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts
city wormhole: Morning in a City, 1944
Daredvil wormhole: tag cloud poem V – draft-ness
dawn & orange wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
Edward Hopper wormhole: Summertime, 1943
identity & streets wormhole: ‘from under the awning …’
rain wormhole: open window
rooftops wormhole: House by the Railroad, 1925
seeing & sound wormhole: after all?
shops wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
silhouette wormhole: 1959
sitting wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47
snow wormhole: To my Mum
streetlight wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting

 

nothing // matters

Tags

2011, acceptance, achievement, agenda, consistency, doing, emptiness, expectation, hearing, identity, meaning, nothing, purpose, significance, thinking, values, world

 

 

 

                                              nothing

                nothing (that I thought matters)
                matters (in a world which juggles agendas)

                nothing (that I thought important)
                is important (in a world which is value-bled)

                nothing (that I had created)
                is significant (in a world that clings to consistency)

                nothing (I say)
                is heard (in a world that only expects)

                nothing (I do)
                is achieved (in a world with no manner)

                I came out of nothing
                tried hard to achieve something

                heard only the noise of my own effort
                                – no echo –

                maybe I should accept that
                there    –    is    –    nothing

                and as the texts then say
                everything happens and everything matters

 

 

 

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

accpetance wormhole: that
doing wormhole: is that so!
emptiness wormhole: start where / you are II
identity wormhole: you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out
meaning wormhole: my life / of others
thinking wormhole: up here
values wormhole: Totnes
world wormhole: the stance of Buscema // qualitatively