brown corduroy shirt / and dark redwine tie

Tags

2017, 6*, breath, brown, eyes, hair, identity, life, neck, nose, portrait, red, retirement, shirt, tie, Virginia Woolf, writing

                                brown corduroy shirt
and dark redwine tie

                finding Virginia
                                              young before gathered and drapèd hair
                                              over enquiring philtrum
                old where sternomastoids meet
                below the whole larynx readying to write properly
                                              and hooded eyes half closed to stolidity
                                                              half open to breath

 

 

read the whole sequence: in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …; I bought myself some new shirts with the no-blame severance pay I accepted to make it all stop – one of the shirts is a mid-brown corduroy that naps a darker brown when stroked because it hasn’t washed worn yet; the tie I bought from a charity shop before I even started teaching – deep burgundy red, slim and tonic in the light; I have been meaning to get in to Virginia Woolf for quite some time, but the afternoon light of the parlour has never been quite right; am I pathetic: oh yes, but at least I can write about it; Carol likes to travel as an instinctive way to comb-through the threads of career and life; we planned a trip to the stones in Wiltshire started with the Avebury stones …

 

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

breath wormhole: and smile / like a bud
brown wormhole: occa / s / i // o / n / a // l // l // y
eyes wormhole: darkness
hair wormhole: handsome
identity wormhole: bud
life wormhole: somewhere
red wormhole: love and precision
retirement wormhole: retirement
writing wormhole: no / thing

 

sleep now

Tags

1997, 2012, 7*, breathing, cotton, doing, dream, dress, embarrassment, evening, feet, girl, hands, identity, lap, legs, movement, muse, neck, portal, purpose, quiet, searching, shop, shoulders, sitting, sleep, streetlight, talking, toes, waiting, writing, yellow

I am safe in a corner shop (looking for portals on shelves in racks)
evening gathers inside ending-day-busy streetlights just          on

a girl and myself waiting to be served quiet     I am seated     waiting
the girl is fidgeting her shoe drawing her foot out slightly

to see her veined feet the root of her toes; she notices me noticing
and moves to another part of the shop adjusting         something

I am sorry; she has on a yellow dress; she comes back to the counter
stands beside me talking to the shopkeeper adjusting her tights now

plucking them up raising her dress a little, she steps and sits on my lap
without talking without referring to me still talking to the shopkeeper

clean crumpled yellow cotton neck; oh; a little bashful I put my arms
around her waist, she continues to talk engaged in her business

her hands come to rest on my hands on her legs I am embarrassed
but she is comfortable in my lap moving and leaning as she talks

thank you yellow cotton shoulder, now I know what to write
now I know what to do, now I can breathe      deeply, I think I could

sleep now

 

 

 

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

breathing & doing wormhole: I
dream & girl & muse wormhole: adjustment
evening wormhole: traffic lights and broad avenue
feet & writing wormhole: returning home handsome
hands wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
identity wormhole: passersby
searching wormhole: cut while you’re ahead/cut while you’re a thread – poewieview #35
sitting wormhole: time
sleep wormhole: gone black
streetlight wormhole: well,
talking wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
waiting & yellow wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow

 

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

 

three musicians

Tags

1830, 2104, brother, eyes, gaze, green, guitar, hands, landscape, lips, neck, pink, portrait, silk, sister, sky, sleeve, velvet, white, years

 

 

 

                three musicians

                the velvet sleeve crumpled
                from out the musty landscape
                the silken collar waven white
                from the green velvet bodice
                the cinnamon-milky neck from
                tremulous-springy collar bones
                the chilled-pink ear that
                directs her gaze newly upwards
                as her sister guides with held
                hand-unto lips-engorged sky
                past the gaze of brother into
                her eyes her eyes from which
                berry-sweet new chordings
                can be found on the guitar neck

 

Of One Heart – Cornelis Kruseman, 1830

 

 

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

eyes wormhole: gre[wh]y / has Daddy left us?
green wormhole: Morning in a City, 1944
guitar wormhole: city twilight
hands wormhole: recline
pink wormhole: Totnes
sky wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
white wormhole: I do
years wormhole: 1963

 

portrait … // … reading

Tags

2013, 6*, Birmingham, blue, Carol, coffee shop, eyes, hair, mouth, neck, orange, portrait, reading

 

 

 

                                              portrait …

                                              OK
                                quite a study, this
                                let’s start with the elbow
                                on the empty chair back beside her
                                fingertips cradling her hairline
                                thumb nudge cheek forward
                                lids down – visor down –
                                bulbous over those hungry eyes … twitching,
                                (no, slow down), over the
                                anguline bridge and whufff
                                off the slightly pudgy nose leaving
                                draped cheek and pelmet jowl
                                parted pert by the ‘don’t know what
                                you think you’re looking at’ mouth above
                                the neck-ward stanchions pilloried
                                down between the orange-blue check collars …

                                              … reading

 

 

 

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

blue & eyes & orange wormholes: Birmingham / 030413
C wormhole: possible
coffee wormhole: an event
hair wormhole: Leicester
mouth wormhole: man of tomorrow
reading wormhole: accumulation of wisdom

 

the last piece of pop

Tags

2013, 7*, being, breathing, growth, insight, letting go, living, music, neck, shoulders, sitting, thinking

 

 

 

                                I can have an insight
during meditation
                (during anytime)

                                shoulders relax
I can breathe out deeper
                I can smile with my ears

                                but if I collect to recreate the insight
‘I like this, this is the way to be’
                next session next breath

                                my shoulders develop an epicenter with my neck
I breathe in and out in the rock pools and shallows
                and I grit my teeth trying to stop playing the last piece of pop I heard on the radio which I never liked in the first place but the ringing guitars and the chorus refrain just keep skipping and repeating without fade                                

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: muse
breathing wormhole: 0.42
letting go wormhole: emerging
living wormhole: chrysalissing
music wormhole: in the kitchen
sitting wormhole: open / window
thinking wormhole: here is a / whiney accumulation of / wisdom