good going into / that gentle night

Tags

2014, 6*, beauty, being, death, evening, kitchen, letter, life, light, Mum, night, sky, sleep, tea, time, twilight, windows

                good going into
                that gentle night

                I’d have a cup of tea
                except it’s evening
                and I wouldn’t sleep
                so I just went ahead
                and did the dishes

                the light was fading
                so I cleaned them
                there in the twilight
                and by the time
                they were done,
                the dishes the sky
                the kitchen window
                and the woman in
                the hospital bed 16
                years ago were all
                of the same nature

                … and now I’m back
                to say how beautiful
                the evening is …

 

originally posted in the comments section to https://mlewisredford.wordpress.com/2014/08/08/letters-to-mum-iii-ongoing-term-eventually/ in response to – and using – Jana Smith’s lovely comments, 150814

 

 

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

beauty wormhole: reating & wriding
being wormhole: circuitry
death & kitchen wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
evening wormhole: the evening
letter wormhole: duty free // chastened
life wormhole: concordance
light & sky wormhole: between
Mum wormhole: south horizon
night wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
sleep wormhole: lime crocs
tea wormhole: hello, luvvey, do you want a cup of tea?
time wormhole: clear as vista
windows wormhole: slightly / uphill

 

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concordance

Tags

2014, 7*, age, armour, discovery, Donald Fagen, expectation, eyes, flow, Gran Canaria, Have, holiday, identity, image, life, looking, music, passing, Salinger, sea, sitting, sun, Sylvia Plath, waves, writing

                                                                                                how to be
                                                                                in a holiday resort
                                                                where the Have is strolled
                                                and swaggered and tattoo’d
                                catching glance like after-image
                when the eyes are closed?

                                                                ~O___,

                                why aren’t I writing?            Well
                                                                I am
                but I was expecting to see something else when I wrote
                                the flow of another holiday
                                                rather than the
                                                                concordance
                                                that I have still yet to discover
                                in my writing eyes wide
                                                closed

                                                                ,___O~

                                                                certainly
                                                the sun and skin keep me
                                                                lapping without gain
                                                                and replaying the chorus from the ‘Nightfly’                
                                                                                unsure if I ever got the verse

                                                                ___“O”—

                                                                but nevertheless
                                                I still worry that I don’t write
                                                                as Plath and Salinger would lifefully so

                                                                I even know the answer
                                but I cannot sit at the moment,
                                                                I thought I had armour by the sea but it has

                                                                so quickly rusted
                                                and I’m overweight and 54 thinking
                                                                of illness and waste

 

 

 

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

eyes & Salinger wormhole: slightly / uphill
flow wormhole: happen//ing
Have wormhole: pass and / fro
holiday wormhole: holiday
identity wormhole: h’rk ‘eh ‘heh ‘hair ‘yeah ‘eh?
life wormhole: I turn to wake up
looking wormhole: Tara mantras
music wormhole: in the Java ‘n’ Jazz
passing wormhole: ‘someone …’
sea & sun & Sylvia Plath & waves & writing wormhole: jump start
sitting wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build

 

I turn to wake up

Tags

2014, 7*, authority, breakdown, Carol, determination, doors, dream, Emily, future, heart, Hillside, home, humiliation, identity, innocence, life, managerialism, neglect, power, presumption, pupils, responsibility, sound, streets, teachers, teaching, time, toilet, uniform, waking

the e-mail that clanked dank in my heart
                the report I hadn’t written
                                for so long, for Emily
[her future all depends on it, poor Emily, she is so innocent and so pretty she deserves all the future she can get and You are neglecting her of it with your own languid longevity] but I will

                                NOT be responsible for future lives
                when I am ill from the presumption which doesn’t let me
even crap in private outside my own backdoor pan-in-the-yard
                they have called for me at my front door
                                with the brusqueness of a uniform
                                                with the presumption of amoral (sic)
                                                                even here
                                                the uniform and the outside toilet in my own house:                
                the humiliation could not be more complete so
I pull the hood of my dressing gown over my head
                and sink out of the dream

                                This Will Not Be

                                                I rouse Carol from
                                                                her own dream
                                                and drift somewhat back to …
                                … pupils all around the street
                                                they
                                                should
                                                not be
                                                there but only I
                of all the teachers in my front room
go out to front and tell them –
                command of my righteousness –
                                that they should not be there they should be BEHIND the house
                                                behind the house
                                but they turn languid
                and run round the corner down the street, they know
they don’t have to listen to me and
                I am powerless because
                                I am ill

                                I am so fed up with this
                                                I turn myself to wake up
                                                                I turn to wake up

 

 

 

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

breakdown wormhole: slow enough / to have love
Carol 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”
doors & life wormhole: every step I take
dream wormhole: make your rickety / constructs strong with / unbending grids / of attention and wide- / open grates of let
Hillside wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
identity wormhole: dear Lucy
managerialism wormhole: ‘let them slide off …’
power wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
sound & streets wormhole: while
teaching wormhole: dream I // dream II
time wormhole: this time

 

every step I take

Tags

2013, 6*, awareness, climbing, dawn, doors, grey, hope, life, living, nausea, ochre, rock, seeing, step, walking, walls

                there is a wall before me
                gets higher as I walk towards it
                so wide that I cannot turn my head
                footings deep of the rock on which I stand

                I thought there was a door once
                but I can never see where I want to
                I thought to climb it for there was a dawn which crept along its
                battlements but it is featureless it silently radiates grey with ochre stains of nausea

                hopeless
                but that I have come such a long way
                I shall just have to walk through it without
                knowing where to go sure only of every step I take

 

 

 

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

awareness wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
dawn wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
doors & walls wormhole: such such potential
grey wormhole: ‘avenue of wraggled gorse tops …’
life wormhole: divergent // direction
living wormhole: do I
ochre wormhole: “I / am Spartacus”
seeing wormhole: the goldilocks stance
walking wormhole: step

 

divergent // direction

Tags

2013, 6*, attention, being, CGI, control, distraction, echo, film, growth, identity, life, movement, naked, nerve, observing, reputation, self-compassion, self-love, sequel, sitting, society, sound, static, thought, waves

                it’s not just the oh-ho naughty thoughts
                that really shouldn’t but burst through
                ta-dha because you can’t stop them yet
                (secretly don’t want to, yet)

                it’s not even the oops echoes and sequels
                of each sprain and twinch that ached
                and deadened a sense of naked self, no
                it’s the thousand little nerves and waves

                the stylish static of the over-working CGI
                that test and flash the Dolby sound before
                the titles roll and the big names appear it’s
                all of that wide wide widescreen that needs

                      the love of incorporation
                      not the surroundsound of
                      stereo or the left and right
                      eyes watching in divergent

                      direction

 

 

 

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

attention & distraction & sitting & society & sound wormhole: nevertheless
being wormhole: facing the crime section
echo & life wormhole: the quiet whale
film wormhole: spit / spot
identity wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page
thought wormhole: Virginia
waves wormhole: do I

 

the quiet whale

Tags

2013, 8*, air, breath, community, currents, echo, groundlessness, life, light, passing, quiet, silence, society, sound, speech, superhero, water, whale, windows

                there was a thirty year cacophony
                     storied and canyon
                     full of echo and window
                     and impossible superheroes
                but the giant fin e – ven – tu – all – y
                     passed gliding out of freeze-frame
                     the quiet whale drifting off
                                like a community

                                there is nothing left
                     the after-currents, the dwindling tendency
                     the receding cheers the gears the home-lights
                                                receding bobs
                                                no ground to
                                                stand from
                                                su – spend – ead

                                     but too
                     no need to hold my breath anymore
                                no need to stay submerged down here
                                                let this leaden air out
                                                to rise where
                                                it will
                                I will take in all water
                                                behind my ears
                                                               and reach anywhere
                                                                               through power
                                                                                                   of silent speech

 

 

 

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

air & passing wormhole: too greedy
breath wormhole: municipal garden
echo wormhole: occa / s / i // o / n / a // l // l // y
groundlessness wormhole: ‘let them slide off …’
life wormhole: step
light & society wormhole: Infantino / district of Gotham
silence wormhole: St. Edmund’s / Parish Church / Castleton
sound wormhole: where else
speech 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”
superhero wormhole: bud
water wormhole: embodying
whale wormhole: gulp // spout // and recede
windows wormhole: to rescue something

 

step

Tags

2013, 4*, being, class, life, living, movement, pattern, school, shift, step, teaching, walking, watching, waves, wind, woodland

                walk into the school and see
                the patterns and movements

                walk into the class and see the
                waves and shifts as if watching

                woodland in the winds and
                walk through minding your next

                step

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page
life wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
living wormhole: slow enough / to have love
school wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
teaching wormhole: just saying, is all VIII: keeping up toxic appearences
walking wormhole: too greedy
waves wormhole: 20th century
wind wormhole: within

 

landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey

Tags

2013, birth, black, breathing, clouds, England, green, grey, hope, iron, landscape, life, London, mauve, mist, park, pipes, pregnancy, publishing, shadow, streets, Sylvia Plath, Victorian houses, walking, writing

                soon after I was born
                to the rendered sides of
                talling Victorian terrace-ends
                with networks of iron black pipe
                and random small frosted window
                                Sylvia Plath

                arrived back in England
                pregnant with newhope and
                immanent with firstbook
                to breathe the alternating
                talling shadows of street
                and the misty greenmauve landscape
                                of park

                landscape of cloud over London
                with differing depths of grey

 

 

 

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

black wormhole: St. Edmund’s / Parish Church / Castleton
breathing & writing wormhole: the goldilocks stance
clouds & green & grey wormhole: municipal garden
life wormhole: garden
London wormhole: handsome
mauve & shadow & walking wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
mist wormhole: prelude: // travel
park wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
publishing wormhole: Granada holiday …
streets wormhole: Luton // couldn’t make a poem out of it
Sylvia Plath wormhole: Sylvia
Victorian houses wormhole: through the pane – poewieview #34

 

garden

Tags

'scape, 2013, 7*, Carol, clouds, Eden, garden, green, hair, hill, life, Mam Tor, mist, morning, pine, silhouette, silver, sun, trees, valley, walking

                                garden

                walking up through the morning
                      to Mam Tor
                will the mist rise off the hill
                      as we rise
                well it doesn’t matter because
                      right there
                the sun has broken through the
                      upper cloud
                but not yet the misty-wet, making
                      the trees
                green-silhouette and the valley silvery-
                      incandescent
                as the new-born first day

                      in front
                is Carol’s forest of hair walking
                      slowly
                into the quick-grown pine getting
                      nowhere

 

 

 

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

Carol wormhole: handsome
clouds & trees wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
garden wormhole: lost and city ground
green & hair & mist wormhole: prelude: // travel
life wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
morning wormhole: mother and daughter
pine wormhole: clouds
silhouette wormhole: love and precision
silver wormhole: Life on Mars? – poewieview #31
sun wormhole: too much in arrival
valley wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
walking wormhole: prospect

 

lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light

Tags

2013, 7*, apple tree, awareness, being, blue, breeze, Castleton, death, doing, eggs, evening, feeling, feet, flying, glass, holiday, kitchen, leaves, life, light, living, mindfulness, placement, table, warp, weft

                lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening
                skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling
                the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo
                for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light

                                it is so sweet and simple
                                what I have to do: the keep
                                of mind on what I do the
                                turning of the lens until
                                what I am and what I do
                                are so clear and resplendent
                                that I can see each thread
                                of the warp and weft of the
                                blue gingham cloth hanging
                                over the edge of the wicker
                                basket holding speckless-
                                shaped eggs four to welcome
                                us to the holiday cottage

                back to Castleton two years on, cool feet on the fresh-laid flooring
                fresh breeze through the leaves of the apple tree
                but the drop-leaf table in the kitchen
                is mine all mine

 

 

 

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

awareness wormhole: redundant
being wormhole: too much in arrival
blue wormhole: ssreet chak-chak
breeze wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
Castleton wormhole: on the raised patio reading Plath
death & life wormhole: stone
doing wormhole: prelude: // travel
evening wormhole: south horizon
feet wormhole: six paramitas
glass wormhole: Salisbury Cathedral // suspended in everything
holiday wormhole: holiday
kitchen wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow
leaves wormhole: monument to vainglory
living wormhole: wasted –
table wormhole: retirement