letting them go

Tags

2017, 6*, attention, awareness, b/w, blues, branches, chords, comics, doors, guitar, identity, improvisation, laziness, letting go, life, living, morning, mouth, notice, passing, perspective, retirement, sound, talking to myself, twilight, world, writing

                I used to be lazy and cast wide
                with absently open mouth
                greedy to capture every
                snippet of notice to write:

                finding the secret doorway
                in the b/w reprint vista
                that will be the perspective
                with which I will return, noticed

                finding the lingering trill
                and the shifted-chord refrain
                across the neck of my guitar
                inexorable in-tangent flight

                finding new twilight between
                turning bare branches in which
                to pace the following
                mornings in strange new worlds;

                but it was a laziness difficult
                to maintain, this finding of access
                through letting them go …
                into awareness – much more alive

 

 

 

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

attention & identity wormhole: to arms, then;
awareness wormhole: loss
branches wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Making Hay
comics & mouth wormhole: 1964
doors & life & retirement wormhole: lost the search
guitar wormhole: animus rises – powieview #37
letting go wormhole: chuckling
living wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
morning wormhole: abandoned sound mirrors
passing & sound wormhole: cross-section
talking to myself & writing wormhole: oh, alright then
twilight wormhole: without any buffet at all
world wormhole: ‘when travelling astrally …’

 

Advertisements

chuckling

Tags

'scape, 2017, 5*, breeze, duck, letting go, light, notice, perspective, reflection, Sheffield Park Gardens, sky, sound, surface

                noticing and letting go – the breeze
                skates the water

                reflecting the sky
                of light above the landscape along

                the further shore
                revolves to the accompaniment of

                ducks chuckling about
                on the surface

 

ducks feeding chuckle

 

 

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

breeze wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Making Hay
letting go wormhole: hold them
light & sound wormhole: {Ellen Terry’s house}
reflection wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
sky wormhole: polystyrene / boulderscape

 

hold them

Tags

2016, 5*, letting go, looking, lost, love, notice, observation, searching, wonder

                the tiny observations
                the hope for things to find

                are just as quickly lost as noticed

                without the love and
                wonder to hold them

 

 

 

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

letting go & looking & love wormhole: with all love released
searching wormhole: next unexpected step

 

travelling // arrival

Tags

2016, 9*, arrival, attention, awkward, black, blue, breathing, calves, Carol, clouds, co-ordinate, ears, eye, fields, groundlessness, hedge, horizon, identity, karma, leaves, letting go, notice, passing, sky, smell, teeth, thread, time, travelling, white, wind, wind turbines

                travelling – no theme

                when the wind blows
                leaves turn and follow like
                dislocated jazz-hands

                everything is parting
                and passing all around
                … me (is that the theme?)

                I can’t find what to
                think or notice; in the
                corner of my eye a

                small black creature
                keeps pace, stretched in
                leap over field, through

                hedge, unspite, imhindered,
                depossibly, gathering
                everything in disregard;

                bit between molars (for
                weeks, for days?) wedging
                teeth slightly awkward

                has just worked loose;
                there are skies, there,
                certainly, high, silky

                and whipped, and then
                blue-coagulated drifting
                like a fleet, like calves

                crossing fields ears
                waving, as wind blades
                heave beyond hill horizon

                I conjeal            myself
                in notice, relieved with a
                thread and co-ordinate

                where for to breathe
                again but having lost
                so much more that I

                never had; Carol shuts
                the Kindle and leans; I
                smell her warm head

                for miles – arrival

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: before any writing
black & blue wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
breathing & groundlessness wormhole: is this it // all the time
Carol & clouds & sky wormhole: Christmas 2015
hedge wormhole: free
horizon & white wormhole: looking ahead
identity wormhole: without any buffet at all
leaves wormhole: Batgirl –
letting go wormhole: “I need help”
passing wormhole: I am not yet ready
smell wormhole: St. Edmund’s / Parish Church / Castleton
time wormhole: looking / ridiculous
travelling wormhole: Tara mantras
wind wormhole: after all

 

without any buffet at all

Tags

2015, 5*, acceptance, being, depression, green, identity, notice, panic, pointlessness, self-compassion, silence, surface, true nature, twilight, water

                                                surfacing
                                from a quiet sag – only noticed when
                surfacing amid the twilight sump,

                                                only
                                the silence of lapping remembered when damp seam and sole
                feel cold and slimely green –

                                                still
                                I do not know my true nature, panicking and gasping,
                wanting to float, wanting to hover,

                                                even,
                                without any buffet at all, without taint, and
                the local too close to distinguish

                                                myse-

 

 

 

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

acceptance wormhole: prelude: // travel
being & depression & identity wormhole: lack of center
green wormhole: river
pointlessness wormhole: is this it // all the time
silence wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
twilight wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
water wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha

 

lack of center

Tags

2015, 4*, being, depression, dwelling, emptiness, identity, notice, space, time, writing

                recent relapse
                months long
                before it was
                even noticed

                I cannot write
                about it even
                now it has let
                off, too pervasive

                I cannot separate
                myself from it
                and suspect I
                shouldn’t try

                but dwell with
                in and wide as
                it is only what is:
                lack of center

 

 

 

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

being & depression wormhole: Sandwich
emptiness & identity wormhole: is this it // all the time
space wormhole: clear as vista
time wormhole: when the rain has settled / the dust
writing wormhole: the silent night of the Batman

 

looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been

Tags

2015, 6*, attention, being, doing, eating, exercise, feeling, identity, life, living, need, notice, purpose, reaching, standing, strength, study, thinking

                looking back over the tack
                     and jibe of my life I
                          notice there is
                               a fetch

                I stand too much to attention
                     too alert to notice
                          where I am

                I reach far too far to get
                     that I cannot have
                          what I am

                I eat too much to treat me
                     and deaden
                          what I need

                I exercised too much and
                     stretched the ligaments
                          that contain all my effort

                I exercise too little now to realise
                     the strength I have
                          untapped

                I have studied too much to
                     know what I think
                          or feel

                                    after all …
                                         but certainly not
                                              where I had planned
                                                   or where I thought
                                                        I’d been

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: looking ahead
being & life wormhole: passing
doing & thinking wormhole: circuitry
identity wormhole: immeasurable love
living wormhole: addictive
study wormhole: reading // unstirred

 

Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211

Tags

2011, 2014, 2017, 6*, architecture, birds, birdsong, blackbird, blue, branches, breathing, brick, bus, cars, change, child, childhood, church, coat, coffee, coffee shop, crane, crows, death, echo, Eglinton Hill, evening, football, friends, green, handshake, Have, hill, houses, lifetimes, light, looking, mother, Mum, newsagent, no effort, notice, passing, pigeons, Plumstead, Plumstead common, quiet, roads, smiling, sound, step, streets, Thames, thought, time, trees, voices, walking, white, windows, Woolwich

        Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211

        the crane holds effortlessly over from behind
        the houses and trees cables thrumming always
        cold and eventually it will all be dismantled;

        the diesel car purred slowly downhill, a pigeon
        dropped down behind it walked around a bit;
        through the leaf-clean branches of the young

        tree the Edwardian cornices and tops along
        Plumstead Common Road, don’t collect thoughts,
        t a s t e them without notice, deep and wet

        with no tice – much less effort – while walking,
        every once in a while the wall steps up a brick
        I search for being clear again … step, while

        walking stop, and breathe the beauty, stop
        and smile a little thought for you; in St. Mary
        Magdalene’s ground the mother has turned

        points to the trees, birds fly off and land, the
        toddler steps and stands among the pigeons
        while the mother brings the abandoned scooter

        but then in New Road holding the handshake
        shaking between exchange the firm friends
        look at each other only occasionally; while he

        he Had a coffee heated sandwich iced bun
        crisps water £8.89, busses passing bulbous
        over the dark green and hanging shade; up

        the hill on the coldstreet stepping downhill
        out the newsagent the bright blue padded
        jacket and the single bounce of a well-inflated

        basketball with simultaneous echo inside; the
        while on a wall opposite his Mum’s flat dead
        almost 12 years now watching a boy with a limp

        and the 53 bus working between parked cars
        and the crossing island with air suspension
        and when it was quiet the dark coat and white

        trainers crossed the road paused and into the
        newsagents but then I didn’t see where she
        went; the constant echo of boys’ voices playing

        football on Plumstead Common off Acacia
        Terrace 1890; and I can’t see 46 Eglinton Hill
        where I’m sat, conifers grow so quick, but

        `doesn’t matter, I can’t see the blackbird singing
        a different collect each time either; crows on the
        chimneys of 40/38; for a minute the blackbird

        stopped no vehicles uphill downhill, lights
        went on across the river and each house had
        the face of lifetimes in their windows;

 

Every year and a while I travel 40 miles up to Woolwich, where I grew up, to check that the journey I make started off in the write direction (HA!); while wandering I write, leaning on peoples’ front walls and making a coffee last in a cafe (and every once in a while I treat myself to an afternoon bench); walking downhill from Plumstead to Woolwich and around and back, in time; those who know Woolwich and Plumstead (all none of you across the world wide, as far as I can tell, although you have got Google maps, if you’re really interested) will [be able to] recognise as they appear: South Circular coming up to Well Hall roundabout, Eglinton Hill [childhood home], Plumstead Common Road, St Mary Magdelene’s Church, Woolwich New Road, [along A206], Waverley Crescent (top of Griffin Road), Plumstead Common (proper), back up Eglinton Hill …

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: pen and ruler
birds wormhole: open window
blackbird & change wormhole: relief
blue wormhole: low afternoon
branches wormhole: between
breathing & coffee shop & evening & sound & time & windows wormhole: amid
bus wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop III
cars & green & trees wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
child & streets wormhole: red / lacquer / door
childhood wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
church wormhole: ‘someone …’
coffee wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop I
crane wormhole: Luton // couldn’t make a poem out of it
crows wormhole: the ancient tree
death & light & Mum wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
echo wormhole: circuitry
Eglinton Hill & Plumstead wormhole: lost and city ground
Have & looking wormhole: found
lifetimes wormhole: cape and cowl
mother wormhole: mother and daughter
passing & roads & leaves wormhole: leaves
pigeons wormhole: municipal garden
quiet wormhole: the quiet whale
Thames wormhole: to rescue something
thought wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
voices wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation
walking wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
Woolwich wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams

 

leaves

Tags

2014, 4*, coat, hope, leaves, life, notice, passing, red, ripple, roads, scarf, texture, traffic, Wadhurst, white

                                                settling easy with the ripples and billow

                                of hope and assure leaves
                                notice of sudden texture

                by the way

                                on the other side
                                of the busy road

                                the red coat and
                                white scarf waving

                                carrying
                                shopping

 

 

 

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

leaves & white wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
life wormhole: red / lacquer / door
passing & red wormhole: glide
roads wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket
texture wormhole: the sitting room

 

duty free // chastened

Tags

2*, 2014, flying, letter, notice, passing, smoking

                I took no notice of the

                         duty free

                goods and gifts trolley
                making wheel-swivel
                progress down the aisle
                until I looked up and saw

 

 

 

 

                in letters bold-to-be-seen
                and yet smugly ignored
                for I do not smoke and
                felt nevertheless suitably

                         chastened

 

 

 

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

passing wormhole: is there anything to write?