the sitting room

Tags

2014, 5*, anxiety, being, carpet, evening, green, home, looking, pattern, remembering, sitting room, sweet, taste, texture, tired, velvet, windows

                the sitting room

                                in the early evening –
                                                tired and sprangled – I
                notice the pattern of the carpet
                                soothing as a deep mint-green boiled
                                                sweet

                                                that I
                                might have looked through
                                                for quite a while
                before holding it in my cheek as I shuffled about
                                swallowing occasionally
                                                in remembrance and velvet texture

                                                and after so much anxiety
                                of effect and agent
                far outside the windows of the room, it was
                                                                good to be
                                                                back home

 

 

 

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

anxiety wormhole: too much in arrival
being wormhole: work
carpet wormhole: languidly close the portal
evening 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
green wormhole: where else
looking wormhole: just
sitting room wormhole: Michael Redford: triptych
windows wormhole: dream I // dream II

 

just

Tags

2014, 3*, boundary, dusk, eyes, film, freedom, horse, looking, meadow, morning, mountains, waiting

                just

                                crouching
                from mid-morning until gathering dusk
                                not moving
                                                drying
looking deep across the meadow with no boundaries but the mountains
                into the horse’s eyes who
                                just doesn’t
                                                run
                                                free

 

film: ‘The Horse Whisperer’, 1998

 

 

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

eyes wormhole: free
film wormhole: divergent // direction
looking wormhole: dream I // dream II
morning wormhole: make your rickety / constructs strong with / unbending grids / of attention and wide- / open grates of let
waiting wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation

 

dream I // dream II

Tags

2014, 3*, arrival, blue, experience, explanation, giving, hill, identity, looking, people, poem, reflection, retirement, school, tarmac, teaching, time, town, waking, windows

          dream I

    I had to get to school
    from the college halls
    in a town I didn’t know
    or what I was doing there

    I was already late
    but making my way
    past blue window reflections
    on honeycomb tarmac

    I realised I was going the
    wrong way up a hill people looking
    at me in my teacher’s clothes they
    knew the school is not here

    I am in an area I do not know
    so I go back down the hill
    trying to show that I know
    what I am doing I can see

    the whole town spread out
    like a city the different areas
    the school is there somewhere
    and I need to get myself there

and yet woken up now I’m not so sure I do

          dream II

    my chance to teach
    I explain everything

with little clever phrases like poems
    but each time

    I have to explain yet further
    taking hours, not

    holding them I gave of my
    of my own experience but it wasn’t

    theirs, they started leaving
    before I could conclude

retired now I’m not sure I ever arrived

 

 

 

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

blue wormhole: pass and / fro
giving wormhole: six paramitas
identity wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation
looking wormhole: over-pink cagoule
people wormhole: memorial
retirement wormhole: Virginia
school wormhole: step
teaching wormhole: make your rickety / constructs strong with / unbending grids / of attention and wide- / open grates of let
time wormhole: tragic and archival
windows wormhole: windows // and balconies

 

over-pink cagoule

Tags

2013, 4*, birch, face, looking, mouth, pink, poetry, portrait, writing

                out of
the wet over-pink cagoule

                and the birch-patterned coat
                                under the tired face peering

                                back down at every chair leg
                                              with downturned-mouth concentration is there

                                                any poetry to be extracted here
                                                              or am I just looking at the wrong things

                                                                                      at the wrong time?

 

 

 

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

birch wormhole: Jon
looking wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
mouth wormhole: to allow / passage
pink wormhole: municipal garden
poetry wormhole: … swap round
writing wormhole: facing the crime section

 

in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell

Tags

'scape, 2013, 8*, attention, Belgium, block, breeze, circular poem, clouds, Ghent, leaf, living, looking, lost, notice, park, path, preoccupied, reaching, searching, seeing, settling, shops, sitting, trees, undergrowth, writing

 

 

 

                                              stuck
                         lost and                         for  something
            preoccupied                                  to write
             and shops                                         I am
            past trees                                             usually plagued
             as I drift                                               by clustered
  I am looking at                                 in the belly-heavy
to see everything                                         Citadel
            stopping me                                  rainclouds Park
        my subconscious                         idling                     a leaf
                                            through                                           new
                                                                              ly fell to                         for the
                                                                        the path                                    constant search
                                                                 the breeze                                           reach for the
                                                     worries the top                                                 more to
                                                          of the trees                                                     deal with
                                                          constantly                                                       more to
                                                          but lets the                                                     they have
                                                        undergrowth                                                  it seems
                                                              settle itself                                             when they reach                                
                                                               comfortably                                      it’s only
                                                                         into its seat                         unnoticed
                                                                                                 alert and

 

 

 

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

attention & looking wormhole: Day Out
breeze & clouds & seeing wormhole: weight
circular poem & sitting wormhole: wakeoutofadream
living wormhole: nothing significant
park & path wormhole: the bench
searching wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
settling wormhole: six paramitas
shops wormhole: time travel
trees wormhole: within
writing wormhole: Virginia

 

Day Out

Tags

2013, 4*, attention, bench, Carol, London, looking, seeing, tired, travelling

 

                                              Day Out

                                tired
                from travelling and not seeing what we
                                              travelled to see

                                shared
                benches and hands as we make our way
                                              about and return
                                              bellies full from
                                              sandwiches and
                                              l   o   o   k  i  n  g

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: breathing
bench & Carol wormhole: the bench
London & looking wormhole: time travel
seeing wormhole: six paramitas
travelling wormhole: south horizon

 

time travel

Tags

2013, 3*, chimney stacks, London, looking, shops, the Shard, time

time travel

looking
past the lone chimney stack with
preserved lightning strip
over the shop
under the
arches
before the
Shard

 

 

 

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

London wormhole: south horizon
looking wormhole: to allow / passage
shops wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
time wormhole: where it has taken birth / may it not decrease …

 

to allow / passage

Tags

1940s, 2015, 4*, daughter, father, legacy, looking, mouth, passing, pavement, portrait, profile, Salinger, smile, walking

                           the father
                           walks ahead
                with a Salinger smile from
                           the 1940s

                           to allow
                           passage
                on the narrow pavement
                           and in

                           profile his
                           daughter
                following behind wasn’t smiling
                           looked

                           up to his
                           shoulder
                had exactly the same lower tick to
                           her mouth

 

 

 

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

daughter wormhole: love and precision
father wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Follow Your Nose
looking wormhole: … swap round
mouth wormhole: traffic lights and broad avenue
passing & walking wormhole: embodying
smile wormhole: the silent night of the Batman

 

… swap round

Tags

'scape, 2014, 6*, being, cafe, calm, garden centre, looking, perspective, poetry, rain, sound, windows, writing, yellow

                sat facing into the
                garden centre café
too engineered to make some poetic observation
                                away from where I sit

                                … swap round

                sit looking out the window (back
to the lapping of hubbub and plastic clunk and sprintle cutlery and – there it is – the trayk of cups and saucer)            
                at the calm
and constant rain falling in a five o’clock direction
                the run-off down the path
                                past the yellow caution plaque

 

posted while listening to ‘Lazarus‘ by David Bowie, on a darkening mid-afternoon November-day with the overhead lights all on; written over two years previously in the Wych Cross cafe on Ashdown Forest not knowing which way to turn

 

 

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

being wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
looking wormhole: beepbeep
poetry wormhole: chartless …
rain wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
sound & yellow wormhole: woven-through
windows wormhole: be
writing wormhole: Sylvia

 

beepbeep

Tags

1960s, 1967, 2016, 7*, abandonment, colour, commentary, courage, crying, Dad, depression, direction, divorce, driving, evening, eyes, feeling sorry for myself, freedom, groundlessness, Have, home, hope, identity, life, light, looking, now, others, passing, people, pointlessness, purpose, renunciation, revolution, sense of self, sex, sign, sound, texture, time, true nature, Victoria & Albert Museum, world

                                did Dad leaving
                                trigger my sense of revolution or
                my sense of depression
that there is no purpose
                                in the world
                that I would eventually have to find the courage
to face those new tremors,
                                but five years on,
                                                there, between the given textures
                already cheap and fraying

                                or did revolution trigger Dad to leave
                                                                and find some other way
                                                                                to find some truer nature?

                -O~~~

                                I didn’t want the headphones, now
                                I didn’t want the commentary
                                                all safely wrapped and bordered
                                                                so I kept my own eyes
                                                                open and saw 50 year old memorabilia
                                                                                strangely mute, now
                                                                                despite the peacock-print

                                                and little in between
                                                                save shuffling overcoats with
                                                                no sense of direction where to go
                                                                                save their right of individual                
                                                                                                                way

                                                                                                ~~~O-

                                I don’t think I want the revolution
                                anymore –
                                                away with your awkward sex! –
                I want to know the innate freedom
                                I trust I have already,
                                                save for my sense of right of way

                                                                I cried for fifty years later that evening
                                                it is hard to lose your way returning home
                                                                cut up and turning in circles
                                                                                hoping for the right lane
                                                                                                lights on and direction to go                
                                                                                                                everywhere
                                                                                                signed
                                                                and passing overhead
                                                                it is hard to arrive
                                                toe to toe
                                                                with a fifty year old overcoat
                                with no face
                                but a blinking eye
and me with no headphones

                                                                beepbeep

 

on 30th October 2016, I visited the Victoria & Albert Museum exhibition @You Say You Want a Revolution’ – Records and Rebels 1966-1970 (a birth day present, thank you, Carol); my Dad left our family on 2nd November 1967, my eighth birthday, and the divorce became final by 1969; I think it was Brigitte Bardot who said something about the ‘tremors’ which were felt in the late 60s, but few who had the ‘courage’ to face them, but I can’t seem to find the quote verbatim; we got a bit lost, at first, driving back from west London

 

 

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

abandonment & Dad & people wormhole: chartless …
depression wormhole: the both passive and transitive / non-presumptive pre-conceptualist attenuation of being
divorce wormhole: 1967
evening & identity wormhole: sleep now
eyes & life & sound wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow
groundlessness & pointlessness wormhole: [once a] dilemminal [always a dilemminal]
Have wormhole: Doctor Strange III – the needs of billions
light wormhole: adjustment
looking wormhole: Clea
others & passing wormhole: passersby
renunciation wormhole: escape from Flat Planet
time wormhole: the too big moon
world wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow