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

 

traffic lights and broad avenue

Tags

1965, 2016, 6*, avenue, body, brick, buildings, clouds, Dr Strange, evening, eyes, face, grace, implication, manifestation, morning, mouth, place, realisation, storey, streets, sun, synchronicity, traffic lights, travelling, uncaused, will

                it is always the willed renege
                that let’s the face dislocate-
                hideous in full disclosure
                when implications emerge

                that the mouth no longer
                forms, the nostrils lose
                their boundary, the eyes no
                longer level, that the body

                fulfils its natural grace to
                tend to travel where point
                is cornered without street
                to edge and dwelling stands

                familiar as brick but
                stacked in storey and cipher
                whence cones and bolts will
                manifest but unoriginate

                `till squint is healed and
                morning cloud will shred
                the evening sun between
                traffic lights and broad avenue

 

not surprised by the camber of “The Demon’s Disciple!” by Lee & Ditko in Strange Tales#128, January 1965

 

 

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

buildings wormhole: fresh destiny
clouds wormhole: did I get old?
Dr Strange wormhole: Clea
evening wormhole: the 19th century
eyes wormhole: adjustment
morning wormhole: magnificent salad
mouth wormhole: a crack of lightning / in the dark of night
realisation wormhole: just one, open, nerve,
streets wormhole: through the pane – poewieview #34
sun wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – I suddenly / remembered
traffic lights wormhole: Christmas lights / around the lamp post
travelling wormhole: “The Lady from Nowhere”

 

a crack of lightning / in the dark of night

Tags

2016, 7*, arc, architecture, axle, beach, belly, Bodhichitta, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, buoyancy, centre, choice, connection, dark, emptiness, eyes, gesture, high, lightning, mind, mouth, night, opening, pattern, phantom, pillars, porticos, posture, samsara, shadow, shallow, shame, Shantideva, show, silence, sky, speech, true nature, twilight, uncaused, universe, waves, world

                                a crack of lightning
                                in the dark of night

                                the world casts eyes
                                downwards bullied

                                by the dirty phantoms
                                of obligèd choice with

                                pillars and porticos
                                deep and high across

                                the silent sky like an
                                end of age crepuscule

                                gathering ténèbres,
                                all while the mind revolves,

                                empty to the universe about,
                                empty at the centre of

                                the mighty axle of
                                uncaused leave to turn,

                                when through the merest
                                gesture of pouvoir, an

                                imperturbable shift of
                                posture, a disclosure, is

                                opened and cracks
                                across the sky – the

                                phantoms cannot dully
                                sustain their buoyant

                                suspension – they arc
                                and connect in frantic

                                pattern showing
                                everything like bellies

                                of incestual shame and
                                mouths too small to think

                                to talk; “no more” they
                                wail, leaning into their

                                true nature like shallow
                                waves on a long beach

 

from Bodhisattvacharyavatara by Acharya Shantideva, chapter one, verse five

 

 

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

beach wormhole: development
Bodhichitta wormhole: – sigh! –
emptiness wormhole: the policies came to nothing
eyes wormhole: 1964
mind & sky wormhole: reaching branch
mouth wormhole: too late:
night wormhole: work
posture wormhole: impressionism
samsara wormhole: my // shell – poewieview #19
shadow wormhole: Drug Store, 1927
silence & speech wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – the soft canticle of the gourds:
waves wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – introdepthion
world wormhole: words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25

 

too late:

Tags

2015, blue, breathing, death, emptiness, eyes, holiday, identity, lifetimes, living, mouth, nose, seeing, sky, speech, sun, Sylvia Plath

 

 

 

                      you were not morbid
                      you were not paranoid

                      you were just awkward
                      with built-in mis-match

                      of all of our lives and
                      no hope for emergence;

                      you breathed always
                      through your eyes – so much

                      more to see – but they
                      said the nose, the mouth,

                      was more usual and
                      essential to living –

                      too late: you saw the
                      sun-bleached blue of a

                      holiday before the deep-
                      high sky of emptiness

                      and panicked

 

 

 

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

blue & sky wormhole: furl-reach
breathing wormhole: while walking
death wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
emptiness & identity & living & seeing wormhole: Jericho
eyes wormhole: B le tch l ey P ark
holiday wormhole: 1968
lifetimes & sun wormhole: work
mouth wormhole: early evening
speech wormhole: dry rot
Sylvia Plath wormhole: and then just stop

 

early evening

Tags

2015, Batman, blind, death, evening, killing, kitchen, life, light, moon, mother, mouth, neighbourhood, origin, railtrack, silence, streets, talking, tongue, windows

 

 

 

                                early evening

                the whole borough of neighbourhood
                was blind, save occasional kitchen

                window, between the footings of an
                elevated rail line emerged a mouth

                with tongue slightly too big as it talked,
                fingered the lady’s necklace, closed its

                mouth to shoot, beads bouncing about
                the street, moon through metal lattice

 

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: bookmark
death wormhole: seventy two, perhaps – poewieview #9
evening wormhole: Saturday – poewieview #3
kitchen & silence & streets wormhole: the sounds of 1969 // [would have] seemed that way – poewieview #13
life wormhole: strange / tarnish
light wormhole: keep the light off
moon wormhole: the windmill
mother wormhole: London Hearts – poewieview #4
mouth wormhole: recovered
talking wormhole: really
windows wormhole: where the goblins leered – poewieview #14

 

recovered

Tags

2015, ageing, cafe, eyes, hair, hope, life, mouth, neck, others, pointlessness, realisation, settling, talking to myself

 

 

 

                OK
                I am not
                recovered from the
                hollow purpose of life
                that makes my neck crick
                and my hair fall out that droops
                my mouth and hangs my liquid eyes
                to gaze above the heads for hope and see

                                that no one else is either at the garden café

 

 

 

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

eyes wormhole: three musicians
hair & mouth wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
life wormhole: Sunday afternoon
others & talking to myself wormhole: after all?
pointlessness wormhole: now, have I forgotten anything
realisation wormhole: lo
settling wormhole: the stance of Buscema // qualitatively

 

gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?

Tags

1960s, 2013, blackberry, blue, Daddy, dawn, drawing, eyes, girl, green, grey, hair, lips, mauve, mother, mouth, nose, orange, portrait, question, red, sleep, sunlight, train, trees, yellow

 

 

 

                           line-drawing of a child asleep
                           against the mother’s arm
                           is just cross-hatch about her cheek
                           and block-smudge under her jaw
                           and up her neck but the features
                           concentrate around her eyelashes
                           nostrils and lips stepcloser more
                           concentrated hatching and smudge
                           but suggestive-enough to upturn
                           down lids to relax

                           hair in art-deco 60s lines in streams
                           overlap in shallows reaching and
                           returning carriage rock to armpit-
                           warmth to roll relax to fall sunburst
                           flutter through tree tops make the
                           mauve dawn essence of blackberry
                           jelly redorangeyellow b l u u u e
                           g r  eeeee   nnnnnnnn   gre[wh]y
                           has Daddy left us?

 

 

 

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

1960s & eyes wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
blue wormhole: recline
dawn wormhole: lifetime
girl wormhole: Brugges April 2015 – looking lost
green wormhole: corner of Plum Lane / Eglinton Hill and / Shrewsbury Lane
grey wormhole: dream 260815
hair & mother & mouth wormhole: The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …
mauve wormhole: my life / of others
orange 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
red wormhole: along
sleep wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
train wormhole: the peculiar continuum of trains
trees wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
yellow wormhole: Ashdown Forest / 080213 14:47

 

The Godfather III: // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …

Tags

2014, blood, cog, decades, film, Francis Ford Coppola, hair, Have, identity, loss, mother, mouth, naked, power, sound, The Godfather, tragedy, ugly

 

 

 

                                                                 The Godfather III:

                                                                           long
                                                                 silent         cry
                                   mouth open ugly naked
                                                 power gone

                   and every cog of every decade caught
                   on the same piece of rag coiled around each tooth
                   limp bloody and hair-fallen in her mother’s arms

                                                                                              … … …

                                                         … … …

                … … …

                AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH …

 

 

 

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

film wormhole: I need to keep my eyes open / in meditation
hair wormhole: the tangles fall apart
Have wormhole: the lines are not that straight / after all
identity wormhole: dream 230315
mother wormhole: sight / seeing
mouth wormhole: sitting
power wormhole: the Conqueror
sound wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting

 

sitting

Tags

2012, awareness, being, letting go, living, middle way, mouth, opening, sitting, talking to myself, thought

 

 

 

                                              sitting*

                                              so

                you have this sweet in your mouth
                                a broken chunk of toffee
                                or a hard boiled sweet with a soft centre
                                                              deep inside
                do you crunch it straightaway
                                              break it up into pieces
                                grind them down
                                              gimme the sugar
                                                              use your strongest teeth
                                next one!
                do you let it sit on your tongue
                                let your mouth melt it
                                              maybe suck it a bit
                                                              but I will not chew
                                I will not chew
                                              you’ll chew
                                                              and then try again with the
                                              next one
                                or do you keep it in your mouth
                                              get the size of it
                                                              flip it around
                                                                                 get some taste off it and
                                              wait
                                for the softs and the openings
                                              to appear by themselves
                                                              one last taste then
                                              crrnnck
                                              chunk into that sucker
                                                              you’ve got him now
                                but not too soon
                                                                                 never too soon and
                                              you won’t want another
                                                                                 you won’t need another

 

* as in, awareness of, just, as in, only

 

 

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

awareness & mouth wormhole: the Conqueror
being wormhole: good looking
letting go wormhole: dedication
living wormhole: Totnes
sitting wormhole: of a sudden // all the time
talking to myself wormhole: wriving
thought wormhole: bottom of Herbert Road to the / foot of Eglinton Hill dream

 

the Conqueror

Tags

2015, Avengers, awareness, breath, eyes, faces, fate, identity, lost, mask, mouth, nose, power, society

 

 

 

                                   there is a mask
                                   tight over the face
                                   of the Conqueror

                                   clung into cheekbone
                                   taught over flattened
                                   nose where no breath

                                   is possible; only eyes,
                                   that linger a second
                                   while the mouth

                                   languidly grims the
                                   only fate not strategically
                                   precluded, showing

 

 

 

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

awareness & breath wormhole: on walking through walls
eyes wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
faces wormhole: out side of the writing / lodge
identity wormhole: the tangles fall apart
mouth wormhole: you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out
power & society wormhole: Bodiam Castle