relief

Tags

'scape, 2013, 5*, birdsong, blackbird, change, continuity, hills, Lewes, relief, twilight

                      such a relief
                      as the daylight

                      fades and the
                      hills of Lewes

                      darken
                      the blackbird

                      continues to
                      chirp

                      in a hundred
                      different ways

 

 

 

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

blackbird wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
change wormhole: comfy
hills wormhole: 1966

 

well,

Tags

'scape, 2013, coffee shop, evening, Lewes, music, notebook, people, sitting, streetlight, tired, toddler, voices, writing

 

 

 

                                     well,

                           I am sitting in the coffee shop
                           I have the notebook out
                           the evening is coming down
                           all the lights are brightening up
                           and as the people take
                           their shopping home
                           I think I can pick out
                           ‘Waterloo Sunset’ through
                           the cries of an overtired
                           toddler

 

 

 

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

coffee shop & music wormhole: tabla
evening wormhole: early evening
Lewes wormhole: library windows
people wormhole: the sounds of 1969 // [would have] seemed that way – poewieview #13
sitting wormhole: and that’s where I are
streetlight wormhole: like ink – poewieview #23
voices wormhole: dream career // groggy
writing wormhole: dash

 

library windows

Tags

'scape, 2015, awning, being, gables, grey, Lewes, library, morning, rain, sky, transmission, windows

 

 

 

                     library windows to the sky
                     morning grey to be and to

                     come and between the valley
                     outlets of the regular gables

                     the washed alluvial-coloured
                     stains down the tin awning

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: ‘in clear oil air …’
grey wormhole: Saturday
morning wormhole: Seven A.M, 1948
rain & windows wormhole: sixty four sixty five
sky wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915

 

walking through Lewes

Tags

'scape, 2013, dark, emergence, grey, hills, houses, identity, Lewes, possibility, time, trees, walking, walls

 

 

 

                           walking through Lewes

                           I emerge from darkness
                           between thick stone walls

                           holding hills and houses
                           and overhanging trees

                           grown and replaced
                           for a hundred years

                           ever on a grey day full
                           of possibility and time

 

 

 

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

emergence wormhole: the practice
grey & walking wormhole: “walking …”
hills wormhole: Soir Bleu, 1914
identity & walls wormhole: Office at Night, 1940
time wormhole: David Bowie – Iris
trees wormhole: Seven A.M, 1948

 

08:55

Tags

'scape, 2015, bass, grey, guitar, Lewes, reggae, shops, sky, sound, streets, time

 

 

 

                                                                      08:55

                                weeyall weeyall weeyall
                                of a shop alarm under

                                a grey sky down the
                                high street and the bass

                                line (but no guitar strike)
                                of reggae in the delivery

            van not quite yet in beat

 

 

 

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

grey & sky wormhole: the breath of London
guitar wormhole: three musicians
shops wormhole: purple and mauve
sound wormhole: com- / mute
streets wormhole: currency: / assent for statement – / ‘smakin’alivvin’
time wormhole: bougainvillea

 

you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out

Tags

2013, candle, children, church, identity, Lewes, love, mouth, smell, talking, wedding

 

 

 

                                   at the wedding
                                   everyone dressed fine and beautiful
                                   in their own faults

                                   heads sweaty or coiffured
                                   the children talk
                                   the chorists’ mouths held

                                   up or down with discipline
                                   and of all of these
                                   love is the greatest

~“O”~

                                   you can only smell the candles
                                   when they have been snuffed out

 

third part of the triptych scenes ’round a wedding: // you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out

 

 

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

church wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
identity & talking wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
love wormhole: my life / of others
mouth wormhole: is that so!

 

let’s have some ice creams

Tags

2013, children, doing, family, feet, grass, Lewes, passing, river, speech

 

 

 

                                     sitting by a river
                                     surface drifting upstream
                                     past the grasses arranged like baskets

                                     let’s have some ice creams

                                     burst-activity little feet
                                     point forward to find
                                     sandals without looking

 

first part of the triptych scenes ’round a wedding: // you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out

 

 

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

doing wormhole: my life / of others
family & river wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
feet wormhole: I love with all the history and lack of perfections at our command
passing wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
speech wormhole: lifetime

 

library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!

Tags

2014, ageing, being, birdsong, books, carpet, compassion, echo, feet, identity, Lewes, library, life, light, listening, notebook, opening, passing, people, reading, red, roof, settling, shadow, sound, striving, study, table, talking, talking to myself, travelling, walking, windows, writing

 

 

 

                library: start where you are IV

                                time to write –
                                but I’ve come
                                to the table

                                wanting to find
                                the same people
                                the same vistas –

                                foreclosed*
                                before I even open
                                the notebook

                                wanting the talk of feet reading
                                and the scent of sigh tired and the
                                stretching in common embrace

                                but instead I have the constant
                                humm of light high up in the varnished
                                rafters the intermittent beep

                                of the drinks machine and
                                the sway of heavy man with step-
                                energy walking up then down the

                                quiet research balcony
                                which I hadn’t been noticing
                                aha; I see, I hear, I, here.

                                the light doesn’t hum
                                it spreads the ubiquitous
                                plum-red carpet with

                                venn shadows from feet
                                from case; that alarm was it
                                regular between key-tap-return and bird-twit

                                has stopped
                                the heavy man went downstairs
                                and I noticed the girders and ties

                                (that such mass can move so decisive
                                 and change without wheel or haul
                                 through all the planes we have riveted

                                 and braced about our life)
                                at last I am settled and
                                my table still empty

                                              I’ve

                                been trying to get
                                from here to there,
                                where there would really

                                make here much better and
                                connect them together,
                                reduce their distance,

                                dissolve any distinction,
                                              I
                                have studied this extensively

                                in all those books, composed it, even;
                all the distance I have travelled!
                                from here to there

                                marking myself wrinkled tired
                                and echoed in my own space
                                              … actually quite nice here, if I let open some windows

 

* this piece is a sequel to [start where you are III] – delve which was quite cute; happened in the same library in the same town, but in entirely different lives

 

 

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

being & writing wormhole: hot chocolate
books & compassion & reading & settling & table & talking to myself wormhole: [start where you are III] – delve
carpet wormhole: Trinity Arts
echo wormhole: ‘in the midst of winter …’
feet & identity & sound & travelling wormhole: Totnes
life wormhole: lifetime
light & people & windows wormhole: up here
listening wormhole: purpose
passing & talking wormhole: ‘discution poli / d’orage …’
red wormhole: on the raised patio reading Plath
roof wormhole: prologue-ing
shadow wormhole: the dash is magnificent / the shadow grotesque
striving wormhole: re lax // me
study 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
walking wormhole: ambling around / the garden centre

 

[start where you are III] – delve

Tags

2014, being, books, breathing, compassion, detail, emptiness, eyebrow, eyes, faces, feet, fingers, green, hair, hills, identity, laptop, legs, letting go, Lewes, library, lime, looking, mouth, muse, phone, portrait, profile, reading, settling, sitting, sound, speech, stretch, sun, Sylvia Plath, table, talking to myself, thinking, time, travelling, windows, woman, world

 

 

 

                                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

 

the Buddha head in an antique shop

Tags

2014, being, Buddha, compassion, doing, doors, eyes, fire, identity, Lewes, life, love, meaning, openness, others, purpose, realisation, roads, samadhi, searching, shop, silence, smile, stillness, thinking, time, walking, wood

 

 

 

                     the Buddha head in an antique shop stood
                     large and quiet on a cherry wood corner unit

                     by the open door
                                                 what, a Buddha’s head in an

                     antique shop thought I and crossed the road
                     to study the lids cast down detached reserved

                     but not closed to a smile and more mysteriously
                     connected beneath my spiky-backed search for

                     authenticity than my hollow preferences could
                     ever be

                                  making little whorls of realisation all
                     about his head – the release of the milliard

                     anxieties in the myriad of people I have ever
                     known – topped by a flame on the crown so that

                     I knew still that there was more work to be done:

                                walking around
                                in life – there is
                                nothing but walk
                                ing about in life
                                no matter how in
                                between or steep
                                or lost no matter
                                the sweaty knees
                                the lucky finds
                                the giving way
                                the loss of time
                                even if I found
                                my way and even
                                if I’d taken diff-
                                erent turns and
                                alleyways there
                                is still only the
                                lift the swing
                                the plant and
                                the roll to the
                                next          step

                     I went back to see what the price was but the

                     shop was closed and everything in it to be
                     considered pre-ordered or pre-sold anyway

 

 

 

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

being & life wormhole: ‘when it came / time to go …’
Buddha wormhole: how ironic
compassion & others wormhole: HPB
doing wormhole: first a mishap then clear vision
doors wormhole: tag cloud poem V – draft-ness
eyes & walking wormhole: titanic
identity & realisation wormhole: connections
love & silence & time wormhole: in the middle of silence and heat:
meaning wormhole: somewhat // digesting
openness wormhole: the View: from Here to the Learning Objective to the Learning Horizon
roads wormhole: moon
searching wormhole: my fidgety self
shops wormhole: we // walk
smile wormhole: my life is not your market
stillness wormhole: St. Ludwigskirche
thinking wormhole: too cold to sit outside / and write flowers of / individual poems
wood wormhole: a splash of fresh water