prologue:
start where you are
envelopped in the world
so do I pry open the locale
to see how I am found
but careful not to crack the world
to see where I am located
… no, that’s not it
not prying open
but you don’t become stuck
in matter or location (and neither
become lost in daydream or script)
rather
you look where you are and
receive it with compassion and all the detail
flowing in without resistance and
whenever I evince judgement – ‘thinking’ –
let it sink back into view like
brushed paint onto a second coat
never located
always travelling
scene 1:
three women in the quieter
study area of the library
delve
a cough when I sat to join the table
an ‘excuse me’ a look up a wink –
was that a wink? – she reads lime highlights
and Evian, arms crossed prop the book like
a lap top over the edge of the table
a book on museum ethics awaiting
her right eyebrow crooked naturally to read
unplugged, but she has a good hour
on the central table, she plinks and
brinks open and sits still as a hill range
receding only the corner of her mouth
and lip-emote and deft at the text
the clear green eyes flick and decide
at the corrections to be made
legs crossed ankle boots
foot pointing circling retrieving
boot cuffs clapping slightly behind
while reading, then stopped when editing
round chin profile, raggedy hair
spun in constant bun brow raise –
mess of poised fingers work the keyboard
interlude:
I delved awhile into ‘Stars Over
The Dordogne’ – falling
presentiment – and looked up
scene II:
my boot-circler was gone, just gone –
I didn’t see her leave – was she even there?
but the sun had moved window-
tinted across their faces
one had shiny hair and breathed
regularly head-collapsed
the other placed her book flat on the table
keep the sun off her face on her ponytail
scene III:
during ‘The Rival’ unplugged was called
she had to go to Nero’s to check her link
(library censorship – smirk in her lilt)
she stretched long and distant …
… then gathered and left
dénouement:
I wrote the scenes I checked the dictionaries
time to go, ‘oh’ she said tapping her phone
‘time flies …’ I said, ‘yes, but I feel I haven’t
got anywhere’; ‘but you’ve been here all along;
all four of us’
I didn’t say …
already, there is a sequel in post-production, coming to a post near you soon: all the distance I have travelled!
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
being & emptiness & identity & letting go wormhole: fall
books & travelling wormhole: Desolation Angels
breathing & settling wormhole: … back to the outbreath
compassion & faces & lime & speech wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
eyes wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
feet & table wormhole: gold wedding band
green wormhole: “King …”
hair wormhole: sight / seeing
hills wormhole: the poppies / of van Gogh
looking & sitting & sound wormhole: prologue-ing
mouth wormhole: new year’s eve 2014; train up to London to / walk the bridges across the Thames, and / listen to the voices say it is, and was, like, / but get back home before the fireworks / obliterate it all in the emptying twilight
muse wormhole: oh,
reading & Sylvia Plath wormhole: on the raised patio reading Plath
sun & windows wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
talking to myself wormhole: really old
thinking wormhole: relapse
time wormhole: time proceeds
woman wormhole: End Israeli / Apartheid
world wormhole: mass
