• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • through the crash
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mlewisredford

~ may the Supreme and Precious Jewel Bodhichitta take birth where it has not yet done so …

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: perception

Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – both fawn and grey

10 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2018, 5*, blue, brown, evening, eyes, face, fawn, gaze, grey, head, home, life, meadow, morning, nose, perception, sound, time, walking, world

                his young head pushed through into a small
                meadow, brown and blue eyes gazed from

                a pitying face fifty feet tall, the chomping
                stopped and she blew violently down her nose:

                we walk the lane behind the herd every morning
                out, every evening home, both fawn and grey

 

read the collected work as it is published: here
this is an appliquiary to: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Cows

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

blue & brown wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Cows
evening wormhole: beguiled / desire
eyes & world wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
grey & morning & sound & time & walking wormhole: we held cold hands
life wormhole: THURSDAY by William Carlos Williams

 

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anxiety

03 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2017, 6*, anxiety, emptiness, everything, experience, falling, identity, imputation of inherent existence, letting go, life, perception, ripple, secret, seeing, self-grasping

                there is always so much more
                to anything to everything than
                meets the sclerotic I and that

                is always precisely nothing less
                than I can never see despite the
                thousand drops that plop and

                lose their secret identities and
                ripple endlessly throughout
                the turbid panorama in which

                they should really take their
                identity could they ever let go
                what they ever grasped and

                never really grasped amid
                their tumbling and freefall
anxiety

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

anxiety wormhole: the sitting room
emptiness wormhole: glancing up from the text / searching for ground …
identity wormhole: PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams
letting go wormhole: letting them go
life wormhole: so / do I keep on writing now I’ve retired, or … / Rumplestiltskin
seeing wormhole: it’s all about…;

 

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is this it // all the time

20 Wednesday Dec 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2015, 6*, Bodhichitta, breathing, corridors, depression, emptiness, fear, groundlessness, identity, living, mist, perception, pointlessness, questioning, quiet, rope, searching, self-cherishing, silence, snake, stairs, standing, stone, sun, time, trust, walls

                is this it
                coming again out of the mist

                that in my trust I find I still
                get nowhere that I want to be –

                by the walls along the corridor
                or at the top of silent stairs

                standing on the landing – it
                is not up here after all, nowhere

                else to go …
                is

                it
                this damn mist

                so easy to overlook
                so quiet to breathe

                that I mistake the stones for a figure,
                I fear the rope for the snake, and yet

                this mist will disperse
                the sun will always eventually appear

                I need not wear my collar up
                all the time

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

Bodhichitta wormhole: may the supreme and precious jewel bodhichitta … // … take birth where it has not yet done so … // … where it has taken birth may it not decrease … // … but may it increase infinitely
breathing & quiet wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
depression wormhole: to rescue something
emptiness wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
groundlessness wormhole: place
identity & stone wormhole: om muni muni maha muniye soha
living wormhole: 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
mist wormhole: while
pointlessness wormhole: is there anything to write?
searching wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
silence wormhole: circuitry
stairs wormhole: currency of generations
sun wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
time wormhole: sweet chestnut
walls wormhole: snapshots about Totnes

 

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a theremin note – poewieview #21

31 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

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Tags

2016, 20th century, afterlife, Bowie, childhood, cocoon, death, driving, faces, footsteps, futility, headache, history, hope, horizon, identity, life, lifetimes, perception, porridge, sight, society, sound, tarmac, theremin, time, trend, weariness

                     and then there is a ready-delivered weariness
                     in life after things start to echo: a theremin note

                     receding back towards past wistful horizon;
                     and then the footsteps march muddy over

                     recalcitrant tarmac, the tyres keep turning
                     through skiddy porridge despite all steer;

                     it starts as top-spin kwinkle, first off, then
                     the taran-tadaa of new-stood sight, to the headaches

                     that leave the face all palsied, until the pallid
                     cocoon folds in to snuff the tired trend of hope

 

you have to go deep into the corridors and past the tall windows, to get to eventual recognition – let alone re-cognition when it cannot be found – with only brief respite between thoughts and the too-closeness of every footstep; you cannot escape the footsteps, no matter how many doors you peep into; After All, 1970

Read the collected movements in David Bowie: Movements in Suite Major

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

20th century wormhole: the 20th century
Bowie wormhole: and that’s where I are
childhood wormhole: through
death wormhole: life [‘n’ death] / legerdemain – poewieview #15
faces wormhole: Shonagh – poewieview #17
history & society wormhole: hinged – From Hell ch. V
horizon wormhole: Quiver of / Tiffany – poewieview #20
identity wormhole: true nature
life & time wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
lifetimes wormhole: my // shell – poewieview #19
sound wormhole: always

 

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teached / in the ass

27 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, teaching

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Tags

2011, cognitive hierarchy, communication, conformity, curriculum, expertise, giving, infrastructure, management, managerialism, money, perception, play, politics, power, powerlessness, Principal, public service cuts, results-led education, seeing, value-bled education

 

 

 

                                          teached
                                          in the ass

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      premised on creating and giving to
                                the ways to let one see
                      that its management ends by saying
                                we cannot all do
                                what we want?

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      that proclaimed its strength of body through
                                pool of expertise
                      that its management ends by saying
                                we have no money
                                to do it?

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      host and guardian of the humble exchange of idea
                                in every classroom
                      that its management ends by saying it’s not that simple
                                we have to jump
                                through hoops?

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      that grew its own high-windowed
                                infrastructure
                      that its management ends by saying
                                it’s just not
                                what was needed?

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      that plots a child’s cognitive development through
                                each and every curriculum
                      that its management ends by saying
                                it’s all about parents’
                                perception?

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      that took the tumblings of a child’s play to measure
                                their trajectory
                      that its management ends by saying
                                does it improve
                                results?

                      whatever happened to that
                                public service
                      that pivots on the craft and poetry of
                                communication
                      that its management ends by saying
                                I am the Principal
                                I can do what I want?

                                          there is no good rejoinder
                                          to this song
                                          there is just no end
                                          to lost

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

communication & management wormhole: the MagOO Effect Effect
giving wormhole: plop!
managerialism wormhole: portrait
money wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
play & results-led education wormhole: the Apple
politics wormhole: … anymore
power wormhole: sit
seeing wormhole: gentle

 

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gentle

08 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2014, being, blindness, breathing, dancing, gentleness, letting go, life, perception, precision, seeing, uncertainty

 

 

 

                           I should be gentle
                           when I alight through life

                           I should see with precision
                           and then dance around it all

                           to cloud the experience
                           of doubt and uncertainty

                           and leave me blind
                           and unable to breathe

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being & life wormhole: spit / spot
breathing wormhole: when writing // stay
dancing wormhole: I can say / that I do all sorts of dance
letting go wormhole: suddenly fly off again
seeing wormhole: the MagOO Effect Effect

 

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hot chocolate

31 Sunday May 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2015, being, chocolate, metaphor, mind, perception, writing

 

 

 

                     hot chocolate

                     the metaphor is
                     the perception with
                     just a sprinkle
                     of the mind that
                     indulges the two

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being wormhole: Totnes
mind wormhole: sight / seeing
writing wormhole: out side of the writing / lodge

 

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‘no …’

06 Monday Feb 2012

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2011, 3*, attention, growth, looking, perception, precision, seeing, talking to myself

 

 

 

                                                      no
                                                      t t
                                                      o l
                                                      ook
                                                      for
                                                      thi
                                                      ngs
                                                      to
                                                      see
                                                      but
                                                      to
                                                      see
                                                      wh
                                                      at I
                                                      am
                                                      loo
                                                      ki
                                                      ng
                                                      at

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

attention wormhole: ‘to all the film-makers today …’
looking wormhole: Marion Park
seeing wormhole: ‘coming / to understand
talking to myself wormhole: wrong

 

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… Mark; remember …

"... the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful; it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe to find ashes." ~ Annie Dillard

pages coagulating like yogurt

  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 10
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Introduction
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • through the crash
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • William Carlos Williams
  • wormholes

recent leaks …

  • “…and may the great elements…”
  • paisley // implicitly
  • this pocketed being
  • the inevitable tock // when we close our eyes
  • time
  • the simple prayer // the tattered poem // the bitter lament
  • taking birth
  • mirror
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  • ‘in my car I pass…’

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  • me
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  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
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  • like butterflies on / buddleia
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