Infantino KO

Tags

comics, posture, sound, Infantino, movement, communication, reaching, cape, 2014, distance, action, drawing, 5*

                Infantino                KO

                braced wide-astride
                across the field of act to

                converge all the distances
                of breadth flicked up

                wards through torso
                switched-electric and

                relayed from stanchioned
                fist and elbow drawn

                to lean-reach syncretic
                to circuit to co-ordinate

                symmetric to suggestion
                of cape                SOK!

 

 

 

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

comics wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
communication wormhole: circuitry
Infantino wormhole: Infantino / district of Gotham
posture wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop IV: right angles
sound wormhole: Cocktails in 1951

 

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Cocktails in 1951

Tags

1951, 2014, 6*, air, black, cars, clouds, grass, green, grey, leaves, listening, loneliness, moon, ocean, passing, pine, pink, sky, sound, speech, Sylvia Plath, talking, trees, white, writing

                Cocktails in 1951

                down below, that half-curious
                half-comical world on the terrace
                up here the air blurs the syllables
                of conversation like sky-writing

                from a clear pencilled line to a
                puffy cloud; green of grass
                grey of ocean and a deepening
                sky faintly pink; always a roaring

                of sound, cars whirring along
                the turnpike; the moon, now,
                over the green-black tops of pines
                chalkily white, third quarter lunar phase sphere

                amputated optically and neatly;
                below a thick voice, “The moon’s out.”
                The reply ravels and threads
                on the leaves and is lost to you

 

dug into, dug up, found, carefully dusted off and pieced together from entry 87. of The Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962, but written by Sylvia Plath before the moon really came out

 

 

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

air wormhole: and I lose sight of her into memory
black wormhole: slightly / uphill
cars wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket
clouds & pine wormhole: volcanic rock
green & trees wormhole: Tara mantras
grey wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
leaves & moon wormhole: between
listening & talking wormhole: reating & wriding
loneliness wormhole: wakeoutofadream
passing wormhole: duty free // chastened
pink wormhole: pink and orange
sky wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
sound wormhole: place
speech wormhole: h’rk ‘eh ‘heh ‘hair ‘yeah ‘eh?
Sylvia Plath wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
white wormhole: greedy
writing wormhole: is there anything to write?

 

place

Tags

2014, 7*, capitalism, child, doing, doubt, earth, energy, finding, gentleness, groundlessness, hair, hands, hope, leading, letting go, London, lurch, market, placement, precision, seeing, shift, sound, streets, thinking, vindication, waves, weight

                      not seeing
                      the energy
                      shift and wave
                      underneath

                      I flex in all the
                      wrong places to
                      ground my own
                      earth to stand

                      on, there, there
                      is the precision
                      but then I easily
                      despise my hope

                      and put on weight
                      far too quick to
                      judge and lurch
                      toward vindication

                      it’s just ‘thinking’
                      that makes it so
                      a toddler’s head
                      chatters by your side

                      just let them all be
                      let their bouncing hair
                      be gentleness to the
                      palm of the hand but

                      don’t take them by
                      the hand to lead them
                      through the streets
                      of London, there’s

                      nothing to find in found
                      and always there are
                      smiling deals to make,
                      letting go, in the market

                      place

 

 

 

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

capitalism wormhole: miss / ad / venture – poewieview #22
child wormhole: municipal garden
doing wormhole: holiday
groundlessness wormhole: the quiet whale
hair wormhole: and I lose sight of her into memory
hands wormhole: twilight / and parasols down / within minutes
letting go wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build
London wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
seeing & thinking wormhole: time
sound wormhole: Tara mantras
streets wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
vindication wormhole: the writing’s on the wall
waves wormhole: concordance

 

Tara mantras

Tags

2014, 7*, being, flying, green, head, land, looking, mantra, mother sentient beings, sound, speech, Tara, travelling, trees

                from ground to thirty
                two thousand feet

                with Tara mantras for
                every head

                that crisps and scrunches
                and overhead cl’cks

                looking left then right
                then down with their ‘like’s

                and occasional ‘I
                was …’s while the

                turning trees carousel
                over green green land

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: reating & wriding
green wormhole: the sitting room
looking wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop IV: right angles
sound wormhole: I turn to wake up
speech wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop III
Tara wormhole: thar she perched
travelling wormhole: forgotten anything
trees wormhole: this time

 

forgotten anything

Tags

2014, 3*, blue, car park, holiday, letting go, mala, morning, planning, shirt, sky, sound, travelling, weather

                                                …damn
                                spent the morning
                                packing and planning
                I’ve got my crumpled cotton shirt and mala
                                the sky is skin-burn blue
                                and I’m off on holiday
                waiting in the car park in the middle of the noises of jobs
                                to somewhere two thousand miles away
                                with probably the same weather
                                and I don’t care if we’ve
                                forgotten anything

 

 

 

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

blue wormhole: dream I // dream II
holiday wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
letting go wormhole: breathing through hypnagogia
morning wormhole: just
sky wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
sound wormhole: I turn to wake up
travelling wormhole: tragic and archival

 

I turn to wake up

Tags

2014, 7*, authority, breakdown, Carol, determination, doors, dream, Emily, future, heart, Hillside, home, humiliation, identity, innocence, life, managerialism, neglect, power, presumption, pupils, responsibility, sound, streets, teachers, teaching, time, toilet, uniform, waking

the e-mail that clanked dank in my heart
                the report I hadn’t written
                                for so long, for Emily
[her future all depends on it, poor Emily, she is so innocent and so pretty she deserves all the future she can get and You are neglecting her of it with your own languid longevity] but I will

                                NOT be responsible for future lives
                when I am ill from the presumption which doesn’t let me
even crap in private outside my own backdoor pan-in-the-yard
                they have called for me at my front door
                                with the brusqueness of a uniform
                                                with the presumption of amoral (sic)
                                                                even here
                                                the uniform and the outside toilet in my own house:                
                the humiliation could not be more complete so
I pull the hood of my dressing gown over my head
                and sink out of the dream

                                This Will Not Be

                                                I rouse Carol from
                                                                her own dream
                                                and drift somewhat back to …
                                … pupils all around the street
                                                they
                                                should
                                                not be
                                                there but only I
                of all the teachers in my front room
go out to front and tell them –
                command of my righteousness –
                                that they should not be there they should be BEHIND the house
                                                behind the house
                                but they turn languid
                and run round the corner down the street, they know
they don’t have to listen to me and
                I am powerless because
                                I am ill

                                I am so fed up with this
                                                I turn myself to wake up
                                                                I turn to wake up

 

 

 

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

breakdown wormhole: slow enough / to have love
Carol wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”
doors & life wormhole: every step I take
dream wormhole: make your rickety / constructs strong with / unbending grids / of attention and wide- / open grates of let
Hillside wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
identity wormhole: dear Lucy
managerialism wormhole: ‘let them slide off …’
power wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
sound & streets wormhole: while
teaching wormhole: dream I // dream II
time wormhole: this time

 

while

Tags

2013, 5*, aircraft, Beatles, drops, garden, laundry, mist, New York, sound, streets, sun, telephone lines, trees

                reading about John Lennon
                settling into New York after
                the split with the Beatles while

                the mist is hanging on the trees down the street
                and the sun is trying to burn through on the washing
                I’ve put on the line and drops

                hang regularly and irregularly
                from the telephone wires all
                through the medium of stacking planes

 

 

 

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

garden wormhole: municipal garden
mist wormhole: such such potential
sound wormhole: divergent // direction
streets wormhole: slow enough / to have love
sun wormhole: windows // and balconies
trees wormhole: where else

 

divergent // direction

Tags

2013, 6*, attention, being, CGI, control, distraction, echo, film, growth, identity, life, movement, naked, nerve, observing, reputation, self-compassion, self-love, sequel, sitting, society, sound, static, thought, waves

                it’s not just the oh-ho naughty thoughts
                that really shouldn’t but burst through
                ta-dha because you can’t stop them yet
                (secretly don’t want to, yet)

                it’s not even the oops echoes and sequels
                of each sprain and twinch that ached
                and deadened a sense of naked self, no
                it’s the thousand little nerves and waves

                the stylish static of the over-working CGI
                that test and flash the Dolby sound before
                the titles roll and the big names appear it’s
                all of that wide wide widescreen that needs

                      the love of incorporation
                      not the surroundsound of
                      stereo or the left and right
                      eyes watching in divergent

                      direction

 

 

 

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

attention & distraction & sitting & society & sound wormhole: nevertheless
being wormhole: facing the crime section
echo & life wormhole: the quiet whale
film wormhole: spit / spot
identity wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page
thought wormhole: Virginia
waves wormhole: do I

 

the quiet whale

Tags

2013, 8*, air, breath, community, currents, echo, groundlessness, life, light, passing, quiet, silence, society, sound, speech, superhero, water, whale, windows

                there was a thirty year cacophony
                     storied and canyon
                     full of echo and window
                     and impossible superheroes
                but the giant fin e – ven – tu – all – y
                     passed gliding out of freeze-frame
                     the quiet whale drifting off
                                like a community

                                there is nothing left
                     the after-currents, the dwindling tendency
                     the receding cheers the gears the home-lights
                                                receding bobs
                                                no ground to
                                                stand from
                                                su – spend – ead

                                     but too
                     no need to hold my breath anymore
                                no need to stay submerged down here
                                                let this leaden air out
                                                to rise where
                                                it will
                                I will take in all water
                                                behind my ears
                                                               and reach anywhere
                                                                               through power
                                                                                                   of silent speech

 

 

 

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

air & passing wormhole: too greedy
breath wormhole: municipal garden
echo wormhole: occa / s / i // o / n / a // l // l // y
groundlessness wormhole: ‘let them slide off …’
life wormhole: step
light & society wormhole: Infantino / district of Gotham
silence wormhole: St. Edmund’s / Parish Church / Castleton
sound wormhole: where else
speech wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”
superhero wormhole: bud
water wormhole: embodying
whale wormhole: gulp // spout // and recede
windows wormhole: to rescue something

 

where else

Tags

2013, 6*, beige, breeze, circle, green, light, money, morning, music, oblong, other, people, sound, spaceship, square, trees, Uckfield, visit

                                the wide-open
                recreational green in town had beige and bright green
                circles and squares and oblongs obliquely occupying
                                the perimeters

                                and the centre,
                a rattling string-of-lights spaceship had come visit
                variously revolving and blinking, relaying energy
                while its engine idled strange music all wondrous
                                to behold

                                the people came
                and applied hard-earned pieces of metal and one morning
                the ship was gone as if nothing had happened but if you
                listen closely to all the trees standing square around the breezes
                they saw it all, they’ll tell you, where else did those marks
                                come from!

 

 

 

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

beige wormhole: 1963
breeze wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”
green wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
light wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
money wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Olly
morning & trees wormhole: morning sun
music wormhole: strain
people wormhole: prelude: // travel
sound wormhole: ‘quick – she’s gone to pay …’