Fishermen at Sea, 1796

Tags

1796, 2019, 6*, being, birdcall, chaos, clouds, direction, ears, fishing, groundlessness, horizon, identity, ink, lost, moon, night, sea, seagull, shore, society, thought, violence, water, William Turner

                only distant shores were lighter
                under the slight horizon

                but hung with plans foreboding
                dark within the ears; we

                rise, we fall, and the water
                would be ink of the deepest thought

                but the violence of no repose,
                and our footing will soon be lost

                before we make a catch
                of chaos; galactic fingers part

                from the moon, gulls hurl a-swear
                in three directions, and we are

                in swollen nowhere, depicted
                solely by silvery highlight

 

fetched from the swell of Fishermen at Sea, 1796; (The Cholmeley Sea Piece); William Turner

 

 

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

being wormhole: pediment to behold
clouds wormhole: London, 1809
groundlessness wormhole: sun setting over a lake, 1840
horizon wormhole: La Route, Effet d’Hiver, 1872
identity wormhole: on facing the Have
moon wormhole: ‘streetsigns …’
night wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
sea wormhole: we held cold hands
seagull wormhole: where did the silence go
society wormhole: pursued
thought wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
water wormhole: YOUNG SYCAMORE by William Carlos Williams

 

Advertisement

‘a blacknight fitted perfectly …’

Tags

1967, 2018, 7*, arrival, Batgirl, Batman, beauty, black, books, eyes, glasses, identity, ink, knowledge, looking, mask, night, silhouette, skyline, talking

                a blacknight fitted perfectly
                over the local skyline like spilt ink

                as masks and blindfolds
                drove through the light to where

                silhouettes can talk
                in strictest identity and all the books

                can lean to the right where eyes beautiful look
                over rectangular glasses

 

Detective Comics #363, May 1967, Gardner Fox, Carmine Infantino: oh the rhymes we wend and the bends we play

 

 

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

Batman & skyline wormhole: space for probing thought
beauty wormhole: only
black wormhole: TREES by William Carlos Williams
books womrhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
eyes wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Pigs
glasses wormhole: we held cold hands
identity wormhole: Victorian pipework
knowledge wormhole: singsong chant
looking wormhole: LIGHT HEARTED WILLIAM by William Carlos Williams
night wormhole: the moon, the moon
silhouette wormhole: despite that
talking wormhole: I don’t need to go out / onto the balcony to see behind me / to know what’s going on

 

the silent night of the Batman

Tags

2011, 7*, alley, attention, Batman, belief, black, blue, buildings, Christmas, city, east, fear, glass, green, guilt, ink, light, marble, marzipan, night, people, planes, purple, river, rooftops, rose, shops, silence, sky, skyline, smile, south, stars, streetlamp, thought, vista, windows, writing

                the silent night of the Batman

                even while they carried their
                gift-wrapped parcels and looked
                to each other with smiles of belief

                the shop signs hummed dark
                against the marbled frontage
                while above, quiet floors of

                clear-dark windows looked east
                looked south in the ink-black sky
                enough to write a novel in a

                single sitting, enough to hold
                a fleet of stars above the skyline
                stacking slowly; when the sky

                is ink-green the rooftop
                gathers ink-blue attention
                and leaps without step or

                swing through the glass and
                ledges of city vista, the lingering
                thought to shadow the guilt,

                the alley to streetlamp the
                fear, and over the river the rose
                cast high and wide to the stars until

                marzipan fingers reach across the
                ink-purple sky and marshmallow lights
                go out

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
Batman: cape and cowl
black wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
blue wormhole: out
buildings & people wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
Christmas & stars wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
city wormhole: city streets
glass wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop IV: right angles
green & sky & smile wormhole: looking ahead
light wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
night & writing wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
purple wormhole: pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria
river wormhole: glide
rooftops wormhole: low afternoon
shops wormhole: in the Java ‘n’ Jazz
silence wormhole: is this it // all the time
skyline wormhole: clear as vista
thought & windows wormhole: for / the first time

 

om muni muni maha muniye soha

Tags

2015, 6*, beach, body, bones, Buddha, feet, fruit, gods, Gran Canaria, heat, identity, ink, knuckles, leisure, mantra, salt, Shakyamuni, sound, Spanish, stone, story, swimming, toes, water

                hola de nuevo Gran Canaria
                quiet crucible of dimpled buttock
                and all the beach furniture of recline
                balmy Spanish exchanged – warm water
                poured slappingly on hot languid stone

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

                hola de nuevo Gran Canaria
                with your reveal of dark ink identity
                your candid feet with no guile, each toe
                tells a different story to your tread – painted
                toes and slight bones between knuckles

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

                ah, you bodies you slink
                cool and day-glo all about me
                you bath-robe gods high above
                with your salt-water pools and fruit –
                the headland a giant sitting Buddha

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: is there anything to write?
Buddha wormhole: child
feet wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
identity & water wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
sound wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
stone wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”

 

the silent night of the Batman

Tags

1970, 7*, attention, Batman, black, blue, Christmas, city, dawn, east, fear, glass, green, guilt, ink, light, Neal Adams, night, purple, quiet, river, rooftops, rose, shadow, shops, sky, skyline, smile, sound, south, stars, streetlamp, vista, windows, writing

                the silent night of the Batman

                even while they carried their
                gift-wrapped parcels and looked
                to each other with smiles of belief

                the shop signs hummed dark
                against the marbled frontage
                while above, the quiet floors

                of stone windows looked east
                looked south in the ink-black sky
                enough to write a novel in a

                single sitting, enough to hold
                a fleet of stars above the skyline
                stacking slowly; when the sky

                is ink-green the rooftop
                gathers ink-blue attention
                and leaps without step or

                swing through the glass and
                ledges of city vista, the lingering
                thought to shadow the guilt,

                the alley divide to streetlamp
                the fear, and over the river the rose
                cast high and wide to the stars until

                marzipan fingers reach across the
                ink-purple sky and marshmallow lights
                go out

 

 

I am so pleased to say that this is the sixth time I have posted this poem, mostly always on Christmas Eve: the poem in which my hero-ego – Batman – doesn’t appear and yet everthing is done by his having been there all along; Batman doesn’t swing across the rooftops, it’s just that we sometimes find the space to change our minds; who is the Santa Claus for the 21st century – Batman (termsandconditionsapply:discussionaboutexistenceis … irrelevant); sculpted out of “The Silent Night of the Batman” in Batman #219 by Gary Friedrich and Neal Adams

 

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

attention wormhole: interim
Batman wormhole: the too big moon
black & skyline wormhole: the skyline
blue & sky & streetlight & windows & writing wormhole: passing below
Christmas wormhole: 1967
city wormhole: 1966
dawn wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – A Precious Moment
glass wormhole: time
green & quiet & sound wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – intemperance
light wormhole: ah … // oh … // meanwhile … // … // tha ya ta …
night wormhole: “The Lady from Nowhere”
purple wormhole: 1967
river wormhole: pen and ruler
rooftops wormhole: passersby
shadow wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
shops wormhole: ‘hope for things to come’
smile wormhole: comfy
stars wormhole: Clea

 

the too big moon

Tags

2013, 5*, autumn, avenue, Batman, blue, chimney stacks, city, falling, glance, gold, height, infrastructure, ink, leaves, moon, rain, river, sky, time, up

                it is only in Autumn
                that leaves will fall to pensive infrastructure,
                that is the time when the

                Bat-figure crouches, up
                there somewhere and glanced-askance, in the
                dark sky-contemplative

                between brick stacks and
                background avenues of downtown uprise while
                below the city spreads

                about the busy bays rain-
                and gold-spattered by blue waters and ink
                under the too big moon

 

 

 

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

autumn & gold & leaves & sky wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – … as the new town marches in
Batman & moon wormhole: was there a moon / on the alleyway wall / confused in front of / the city skyline?
blue wormhole: the 19th century
city wormhole: returning home handsome
rain wormhole: fresh destiny
river wormhole: Quiver of / Tiffany – poewieview #20
time wormhole: did I get old?

 

B le tch l ey P ark

Tags

1960s, 1980s, 2016, 20th century, Bletchley Park, blink, cable, change, children, chimney, colour, communication, culture, data, Edwardian, elbow, ethic, Europe, eyes, grain, Have, history, hotel, ink, knowledge, legacy, living, Luton, marble, meaning, metal, militarism, mind, night, pattern, poem, point, politics, possibility, power, railtrack, rhythm, smell, smile, society, sound, story, subversion, table, the British Empire, thought, time, timetable, typewriter, veins, windows, wood, World War, writing

 

 

 

                                B  le  tch l  ey      P   ark

                                Edwardian fingers pointed
                                from military sleeve the way
                                in and the way through

                                while some knew that a W
                                will never return a W and
                                we will henceforth return

                                to a following possibility of
                                change, the veins in marble
                                cladding and the grain in

                                parquetry floor were no
                                longer décor of legacy but
                                cover for subversion – smiling

                                minds up in front of chimney
                                stacks – no, now, platted
                                and inflexible cable linked

                                lozenges of releasing code
                                (no-longer-just-location)
                                in patterns of levered ratchet

                                across European divide; no more
                                the flurry scratch of ink across
                                blotted paper with fortitude

                                and Empire wile, now the
                                erstwhile sturdy tables were
                                anchored by elbow and fallen

                                eye gazed at shifting pattern,
                                now the heat of metal and
                                ribbon made the ink fume

                                like acid; now was the time
                                of proletariat genius as tape
                                connected the diagonals and

                                metal frame softened and
                                bent in constant hold;
                                now the colour was splashed

                                and the ethic was learned
                                and the story is told to the
                                schoolchildren who – blink

 

visit, 260416, pages of scribbled notes; the poem sifted and shifted until a pattern formed and simultaneously dispersed, across time; in the hotel room in Luton right next to the rail-line which slingshot-ricochet’d passing trainsnotstopping in the window one side, out the window the other, all night and all of the day, in timetable but not necessarily rhythm

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: impressionism
change wormhole: Doctor Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
chimney wormhole: hinged – From Hell ch. V
communication wormhole: Nostalgia for Samsara – poewieview #16
eyes & Have & history & hotel & time wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
knowledge wormhole: 1963
living wormhole: need
meaning wormhole: quite … / … yet – poewieview #12
mind wormhole: becoming
night & society wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
power wormhole: top table
politics wormhole: dear clown’s face
smell wormhole: when writing // stay
smile & thought wormhole: while walking
sound wormhole: 1965
table wormhole: 1964
windows wormhole: mauve
wood wormhole: quick inventory after coffee
writing wormhole: words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25

 

like ink – poewieview #23

Tags

1970, 2016, being, Bowie, brain, branches, city, dark, earth, edge, emergence, floating, ink, light, orange, passing, Plumstead, red, Shrewsbury Park, sky, streetlight, thinking, trees, turning, writing

                                passing by the edge of the park under
                                occasional orange lamp, the dark trees
                                turn unable to contain the floating
                                brain of revolving redness in the branches

                                ah, but the city lights, spread about like
                                dust reassure that there is darken sky
                                without passion that moves free and sudden
                                over only orb and lonely branch like ink

 

oh, God, I should be dead: She Shook Me Cold, 1970; pack a pack-horse up and step-up here, on Black Country Rock, 1970

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

 

 

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

being wormhole: rhymed
Bowie wormhole: miss / ad / venture – poewieview #22
branches wormhole: train journey // like a branch
city wormhole: Quiver of / Tiffany – poewieview #20
emergence & orange & Plumstead & streetlight & writing wormhole: up on the hill
light wormhole: 1964
passing wormhole: tabla
red wormhole: the start of adolescence
sky & trees wormhole: Jon
thinking wormhole: tong len / the inauguration of another – timely – butter fly effect / taking and giving

 

first Spring storm

Tags

1985, air, blue, childhood, electric, house, identity, ink, lightning, rain, red, sense of self, Spring, storm, wind, writing

 

 

 

                first Spring storm

                                red-ink air

                                              and
                                              as the rain
                                              blows against the house

                                                              electric blue

 

 

 

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

air & blue & red & writing wormhole: red ink
childhood wormhole: a theremin note – poewieview #21
house & rain wormhole: always
identity wormhole: miss / ad / venture – poewieview #22
lightning wormhole: dream 230315
Spring wormhole: opening
storm wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
wind wormhole: and that’s where I are

 

red ink

Tags

'scape, 1985, air, blue, image, ink, mauve, pears, red, trees, writing

 

 

 

                      red ink in the air

                                   mauve
                                   pears

                                   on the old blue tree

 

 

 

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

air & blue wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
mauve wormhole: ‘went up to London and what did I see; …’ – poewieview #7
red wormhole: tong len / the inauguration of another – timely – butter fly effect / taking and giving
trees & writing wormhole: and that’s where I are