the sitting room

Tags

2014, 5*, anxiety, being, carpet, evening, green, home, looking, pattern, remembering, sitting room, sweet, taste, texture, tired, velvet, windows

                the sitting room

                                in the early evening –
                                                tired and sprangled – I
                notice the pattern of the carpet
                                soothing as a deep mint-green boiled
                                                sweet

                                                that I
                                might have looked through
                                                for quite a while
                before holding it in my cheek as I shuffled about
                                swallowing occasionally
                                                in remembrance and velvet texture

                                                and after so much anxiety
                                of effect and agent
                far outside the windows of the room, it was
                                                                good to be
                                                                back home

 

 

 

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

anxiety wormhole: too much in arrival
being wormhole: work
carpet wormhole: languidly close the portal
evening 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
green wormhole: where else
looking wormhole: just
sitting room wormhole: Michael Redford: triptych
texture wormhole: written relief to / creeping anaesthesia / through palimpsest / and crankled page
windows wormhole: dream I // dream II

 

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greedy

Tags

2013, 4*, butter, cabbage, canal, eating, field, Ghent, green, hijiki, leaf, lemon, lemon verbena, Nepal, paprika, poem, prayer flags, red, rice, squash, taste, tofu, waiting, white, yellow

                too greedy
                after a vegetarian meal

                slices of squash in light butter
                tofu-stuffed paprika
                sprigs of hijiki
                leaf of lemon verbena
                shredded red cabbage
                little mounds of rice
                to infuse the field of tastes

                beautiful by the canal
                and the Nepali prayer flags but I
                wanted a poem as well while
                waiting for the bill

                would have finished it off nicely

 

 

 

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

field wormhole: occa / s / i // o / n / a // l // l // y
green wormhole: pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria
lemon & white wormhole: 1968
red wormhole: brown corduroy shirt / and dark redwine tie
waiting wormhole: sleep now
yellow wormhole: monument to vainglory

 

currency of generations

Tags

2012, buttons, childhood, clothes, colour, cupboard, echo, Eglinton Hill, family, generation, history, identity, lifetimes, living room, marble, marshmallow, morning, Mum, muse, pastel, sound, speech, stairs, taste, tin, transparent

 

 

 

                                currency of generations

                                ‘fetch the tin of buttons’
                                a quest to the cupboard
                                by the stairwell just outside
                                the room we dressed in
                                and spent all morning
                                because it was warm
                                ‘the one with the fruits’
                                different sorts of fruit
                                pastel-coloured and
                                marshmallowy on a tin
                                ‘they’re petit-fours’
                                something to understand
                                later (the taste had been sugary
                                and pasty and although
                                it looked like fruit it stuck
                                in my throat) now has
                                buttons which are cool
                                and swirly when I run
                                my finger through them
                                and marbled-enough
                                to see history and boiled-
                                sweet transparent-enough
                                to see worlds themed in
                                colour and echo from the clothes
                                of real people from family aunts
                                and uncles in the past who
                                I never knew or can’t remember
                                the lineage from which I came
                                contained under tin-bent lid

 

 

0.62

 

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

childhood & Eglinton Hill & morning wormhole: between thoughts
echo & stairs wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
family & lifetimes & sound & speech wormhole: being in love – poewieview #26
history wormhole: B le tch l ey P ark
identity wormhole: too late:
living room wormhole: fine
Mum wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
muse wormhole: and that’s where I are

 

a little bit of love / and muffle

Tags

2013, attention, growth, identity, journey, letting go, life, poem, self-love, smile, talking to myself, taste, writing

 

 

 

                           write down the awkward things
                           or the bland things or the numbly
                           unconnected things and then

                           probe into their distaste
                           with just a little bit of love
                           and muffle and complete

                           the poem, the journey made and tasted
                           the inhibition breached and all
                           gathered together into smile

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: bookmark
identity & life & talking to myself wormhole: quite … / … yet – poewieview #12
letting go wormhole: and then just stop
smile & writing wormhole: really

 

bamboo-green boiled sweet / with soft purple filling

Tags

2013, bamboo, corridors, green, grey, light, purple, school, sky, speech, sweet, taste, teaching, walking, windows

 

 

 

                                          bamboo-green boiled sweet
                                          with soft purple filling

                           walking down the corridor past
                           occasional high windows light with grey sky
                           ‘I’ve got a whole hour of English next’

 

 

 

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

green & grey wormhole: because
light & walking wormhole: Saturday
purple wormhole: ‘in clear oil air …’
school wormhole: I survived
sky wormhole: New York, New Haven and Hartford, 1931
speech wormhole: gotcha
teaching wormhole: sit
windows wormhole: library windows

 

when writing // stay

Tags

2013, awkward, breathing, care, children, embarrassment, expression, feeling, hidden, letting go, name, poem, sitting, smell, staying, talking to myself, taste, words, writing

 

 

 

                when writing

                when writing a poem
                write the words down that come
                of themselves without stopping them
                without editing them even if you don’t like them
                and stay with them let them sit there in all their awkwardness
                in all their unfitting-ness in all their un-cleverness and crassness embarrassing
                to behold, let their uncomfortable – ness be, breathe their unfitting – ness, explore how they don’t fit, find how something is being hidden or explained away in their expression that makes them uncomfortable, probe it, become intimate with it, don’t turn away from it, smell its armpits, feel its hideous contours, run your tongue over its acrid bits and find the words which call them their own names, name them, and care for them like your own new born children                

 

 

 

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

breathing & talking to myself & writing wormhole: grrr
letting go wormhole: sit / and move
sitting wormhole: Chop Suey, 1929
words wormhole: open window