twilight / and parasols down / within minutes

Tags

2014, 4*, beach, book, Carol, Gran Canaria, hands, head, horizon, knees, leg, lime, parasols, portrait, red, skin, strawberry, twilight, yogurt

                              twilight
                and parasols down
                   within minutes

                Carol lays on the lime mat
                head to the horizon one hand

                scurfing the other holding
                the book open leg out

                straight one knee up perfectly
                skin-red like fraise yogurt

 

 

 

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

beach wormhole: the evening
Carol wormhole: I turn to wake up
hands wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build
horizon wormhole: Infantino / district of Gotham
lime wormhole: 1968
red wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
twilight wormhole: writing: // in turn

 

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six paramitas

Tags

2017, adjustment, aspiring Bodhichitta, being, doing, eyebrow, feet, giving, identity, joy, Mahayana, morality, patience, sand, seeing, settling, shoulders, sitting, skin, smile, talking to myself, the Six Perfections, true nature, wisdom

six paramitas

give, Mark, like you are peeling and cutting off the
scaley skin that cloys around you obscuring your

pure light; be cool, Mark, shelter from the spikes and
eyes of provocation, the winning curl of enticement;

endure, Mark, and face the walls with due measure
and renewed adjustment across a noble brow; nurture,

Mark, a modest smirk: you have the time to do this
all even when busy; return, Mark, to a settled release,

hung from the point between your shoulders like a
perfect coat-hanger; be, Mark, the eye wide shut,

that sees the further shore is in the very sand you
squelch between your feet, sinking lower into pudding

 

these emerged from the section of Gems of Dharma, Jewels of Freedom by Je Gampopa introducing the Six Perfections: delving into etymology reveals facets and perspectives like walking around a display case at a museum and really having a good look at something fascinating; and then I thought, c’mon, Mark, `about time you started standing on your own two feet; so, I sat down to do so

 

 

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

being wormhole: singsong chant
doing & seeing 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
feet wormhole: sleep now
giving wormhole: my seat // now
identity & talking to myself wormhole: holiday
settling wormhole: moment
sitting wormhole: the bench
smile wormhole: Open – All – Ours

 

con / sum / mate

Tags

2014, 7*, awareness, being, defensive, funny, identity, line, openness, page, palimpsest, presumption, seeing, skin, space, sparrows, vulnerable, white, writing

                onto the white space
                between the lines

                who is writing
                why is writing

                not loose because defensive
                not inspired because presumed

                (palimpsest from the previous page
                 provides grip from prequel (funny –

                 a sparrow tries to land on the bonnet
                 but cannot grip to stop flapping)) but

                there needs to be a cut-through
                down there, between the lines,

                to find the sense of writing about
                something

                other than just filling space,
                a plain seeing pared

                from between skin and pith
                vulnerable and recognised

                in all its citric fragrance
                that opens eye wide

                to test the membrane
                to taste the flesh run

                                con
                                sum
                                mate

 

how to ‘hold your seat’ (Pema Chodron) when driving a pen

 

 

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

awareness wormhole: returning home handsome
being & writing wormhole: … swap round
identity wormhole: this aching // and spacious dichotomy
openness wormhole: magnificent salad
seeing wormhole: travel
space wormhole: Clea
sparrows wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
white wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow

 

Elektra

Tags

1986, 2015, architecture, being, Bill Sienkiewicz, blue, breeze, creation, Elektra, fall, father, Frank Miller, green, grey, grin, growth, guru, identity, infrastructure, inheritance, institution, life, mother, shame, skin, slate, smile, sound, thought, woman, world

                                                                                    Elektra

                                spidery fronds shidder in the
                                green breeze; the father is shot

                                impotent on his own boat the
                                mother is shot to birth; this is

                                important; looking strangely
                                like my creator I inherit the

                                shame of the father’s life, I
                                inherit the life of my mother;

                                responsible to neither, formed
                                by both; I have inherited

                                nothing, grown to reconcile
                                in a hundred different ways

                we

                                are institutionalised to the
                                very skin of our being by

                                the grin of care that keeps
                                us innocent and pure; that

                                paternal smile that gives no
                                light or warmth, rictus-like

                                everywhere in the infrastructure
                                and architecture (you took care

                                out from me, poppa,
                                and I never really spoke again)

                                stuck in the slate-grey
                                world of green and sickly

                                blue; I learn that I need to grow
                                and I find someone who

                                beats the father and the
                                mother from me with a stick –

                                it hurts, but it finally breaks me
                                when I learn to just
                                                         fall
                                                         by
                                                         my
                                                         self
                                                         with
                                                         no
                                                         safe
                                                         ty, no
                                                         iden
                                                         tity

 

from the 1st issue of Elektra: Assassin, 1986, by Frank Miller & Bill Sienkiewicz

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: inbreath
being wormhole: substance
blue & grey wormhole: El Palacio, 1946
breeze & green & mother & sound & thought wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – moment
father wormhole: 1968
identity wormhole: ashramas
life wormhole: the figure “46” / in frosted glass
smile wormhole: between thoughts
woman wormhole: Hotel Room, 1931
world wormhole: the / bright yellow / world

 

when in Belgium do as the chocolates do

Tags

2013, bed, Belgium, brown, Carol, chocolate, eating, green, heart, legs, love, nature, panties, red, skin, tongue, walnut, white

 

 

 

            when in Belgium do as the chocolates do

            they’re bad for my heart
                      but anyway

            I enjoyed the red-glazed heart
            with its white-flat base nature
            one bite and the fondant melted free

            then the Green wad of marzipan
            on the dark praline bed
            suffusing with each mulch

            then the block corrugated about and
            glazed flat top and bottom (apart from the nut observation-bubble on top)
            breaks easy like an impossible heli-carrier with all its intricacies inside

            and lastly another heart wrapped dark brown with white topping
            crushed by sheer force of tongue this time
            but soft nougat nevertheless

                      all gone
            it was enough but I
            look around for more anyway and see

            Carol’s legs resting on the bed curving
            slightly at the top into white panties
            and flat belly tanned with fondue sides above the panties

                      something
            good for both our hearts

 

 

 

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

brown wormhole: To my Mum
Carol & green wormhole: bougainvillea
love wormhole: plop!
red wormhole: the breath of London
white wormhole: south horizon