too greedy

Tags

2013, 6*, air, ambition, attention, breathing, coffee, distraction, experience, fruit jellies, love, passing, people, poem, sandwich, sitting, smoothie, staying, sugar, talking to myself, town, walking, walls

                you know, mark, you can be
                too greedy, not from the coffee
                or the four DVDs, not from the

                ploughman’s sandwich nor the
                pear and peach smoothie, not even
                from the bag of fruit jellies that

                now you’ve opened you’re
                probably going to have to finish,
                but from wanting to carve a poem

                out of every damn experience you have
                sitting on every damn wall in
                every damn town you visit while

                every damn person walks past thinking
                you’re a bit damn weird … but then,
                nah, I don’t quite think so, as long as

                you seep into the observation and
                don’t ride it through somewhere else,
                and you can check the ambition

                with enough wide-open love to breathe,
                you could sculpt poems out of
                the very air where you stay put …

                … and, besides, I’m getting one
                hell of a sugar-buzz from these
                sugar jellies … will I never learn!

 

 

 

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

air wormhole: retirement
attention wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
breathing wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
coffee wormhole: too much in arrival
distraction 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
love wormhole: slow enough / to have love
passing wormhole: morning sun
people wormhole: where else
sitting wormhole: the goldilocks stance
talking to myself wormhole: where it has taken birth / may it not decrease …
walking wormhole: ‘avenue of wraggled gorse tops …’
walls wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams

 

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day off

Tags

2013, attention, cleaning, doing, fear, flower, growing, guitar, hope, house, jam, reading, sandwich, self-compassion, talking to myself, writing

 

 

 

                                                              day off

                you could write a piece that quietly chords
                                a lost decade
                or you could play Solitaire and unbelieving
                                lose $5000

                you could read a hundred pages of the most
                                beautiful word
                or play the guitar-line weary in your head again
                                again

                you could clean a house transparent in which to smell
                                a flower
                or fix another jam sandwich to chew over
                                old exchanges but

                whatever you do in hope and whatever you don’t do
                                in fear never
                never let it all slip from your almost-not-watching
                                parent-attention

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: waiting room
doing wormhole: ‘like a piece of ice on a hot stove / the poem must ride on its own melting’
guitar wormhole: b / l / u / e / s / at a right-angle
house wormhole: tag cloud poem IV – C
reading wormhole: Tulips by Sylvia Plath – How Far To Step Before You Raise The Other Foot
talking to myself wormhole: poessay VII: // true revolution
writing wormhole: I could step / more open

 

I could step / more open

Tags

2014, balcony, being, blossom, blue, branches, budding, buildings, buying, child, choice, Eastbourne, education, faces, green, happenstance, Have, identity, journey, language, letting go, life, looking, nonsense, notebook, openness, pavement, promenade, red, roads, sandwich, seagull, seeing, sky, space, statue, sun, syllable, thinking, time, traffic, travelling, trees, voices, waiting, writing

 

 

 

                                it’s all just nonsense
                the things to buy the things to wear
                                the schools to teach
                                the roads to drive
                the born to life the choices to make
                                the faces to set
                                against the sun

                                but two things:
                there is a tree with deep-wine blossom
                next to the red-brick apartments with balconies
                and the sky hangs indifferent and only
                changes when you think about it afterwards

                                I could step
                                more open
                                through all of this
                noticing the space and treasuring the happenstance
                and not caring about the gain or the journey
                                until I think
                                about it afterwards

                                              -o~~~-

                                                              OK …
                                              … sandwich
                                pausing to get out my notebook
                a seagull alighted on the promenade lamp
                                and waited
                                flew off

                                              -~~~o-

                the statue of an Elder
                cast in rolls and folds of overcoat
                stares disconsolately roadward
                and blooms green over the years
                ignoring the traffic passing and indicating
                and all the while beside and behind
                the pollarded tree out of the pavement
                branches all the same length now
                                              budding

                                              -|o____

                by the cobalt-blue railing
                on the lower promenade
                passes a child-voice reciting
                high – slightly complaining –
                cascading downwards with
                each syllable in a language
                which I cannot understand

                                              —o|||

                                                                                 but
                                                              you don’t look to see
                                              otherwise too many thoughts crowd your eyes
                                rather you let enter to observe
                so that the disparate can be made

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: this is not my poem / although I found it nevertheless
blossom wormhole: Manhattan 2012
blue & Have & sky wormhole: Maidstone
branches wormhole: ‘“ruddy crows!” / said my Dad …’
buildings wormhole: introducing / the stranger
child & faces & green & identity & life & red & seagull & thinking & time wormhole: Tulips by Sylvia Plath – How Far To Step Before You Raise The Other Foot
letting go wormhole: letters to Mum III – ongoing-term // eventually
looking & seeing & sun wormhole: !
looking wormhole: open window
promenade wormhole: 1963
roads wormhole: the Buddha head in an antique shop
space wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
travelling wormhole: sniff
trees wormhole: no hat
voices wormhole: connections
waiting wormhole: that’s me / in the corner that’s me in the spot light / losing my religion*
writing wormhole: the precision // the gentleness // and / the letting go