• 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
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
    • William Carlos Williams
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • wormholes

mlewisredford

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

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: throat

the simple prayer // the tattered poem // the bitter lament

14 Saturday May 2022

Posted by m lewis redford in embroidery, poems, reflectionary

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2022, 8*, action, architecture, balance, black, blindness, Boris Johnson, Bowie, cause and effect, cave, daughter, desert, Donald Trump, female, God, gods, heart, history, internet, invisible, king, land, lies, Life on Mars?, love, male, Manjushri, market, noise, notice, others, people, plateau, Plato, poem, power, prayer, proliferation, propaganda, quiet, resource, rhetorical interrogative, Russia, science, self, serendipity, slave, smile, soap, soap-opera, springs, stranger, sword, throat, time, tragedy, truth, Ukraine, value, Vladimir Putin, war, windows, wisdom

the simple prayer

may quiet springs of
value-in-other always disperse
the black and grimy history
of power-over-other
like soap



—~~~\\\ ” sp ” ///~~~—

                                                                      the tattered poem

                                                  may …

                                        over millennia
                                        between peppered millions
                                        at surprise times and sad

                                        across rolling lands
                                        and conserved desert
                                        and steppèd plateau

                                        quiet springs
                                        everywhere
                                        serendipitous

                                        hand-cupped chin, lipless
                                        smile, no-halt act, surge
                                        `tween heart and throat

                                        unnoticed invisible
                                        daughter stranger slave;
                                        the black and grime of

                                        history of power over other
                                        storeyed and high-
                                        windowed, cacophonous

                                        and market-squared
                                        rhetorically interrogative
                                        aside truth:

                    … may they disperse
                    this impossible tension
                    like soap

—~~~\\\ ” tp ” ///~~~—

the bitter lament

“may” is a petition – to a god, to God or to ‘let it be’, it doesn’t matter as long as it is beyond ‘self’ – a directing of hearts (the only armaments that don’t cost a nation), a massing of resource (as-yet untapped and unexploited), a manoeuvring of cause and effect (the only true use of science), a discernment of love like the sharpest of flaming swords; “other” is anything or anyone which is not “myself” and, like a tragic farce played out on the widest of stages, cast of a thousand-thousand “myself”-s (hurry – for one aeon only; apply for auditions here), proliferates inponentially to the power of blind-folded distinction; “history” – I don’t want to know the history that led up to the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, it is a soap-opera that I have seen “ten times or more”, not sure if “I’ve wrote it ten times or more”, “it’s about to be writ again” and I’ve long since abandoned any hope that an original line is to be found anywhere in the entire web of the universe; “power” is male, but male woefully out of balance, to act, to control, to make, to command on the basis of a wobble-board, the king of the castle chanting empty rhymes, unbalanced with respect to “other” and with respect to what-is without blindfolds, a spoilt child who smirks what he wants, a Johnson who dares what he deceives, a Trump who deceives what he wants, a Putin deceived by empty rhymes, so involuted that even before they think to open their mouths have been lying for generations within centuries; “prayer”, “poem”, “lament” is “female”, which is never mentioned, it is “wisdom” (which is never used), it is the balance to male (which is never considered – ‘too impractical’), it is the reference to “other” and the reference to “what-is” (whether “what-is” is blind-folded or not), it is not the replacement of male (that would make it … male), it is the heart-surge of care empty of all self-reference which, unfortunately, has been left in a cave, somewhere, some say in chains, and entertained with flickering lights on the back-wall, for millennia …

 

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: despite all / depiction
balance wormhole: the balance necessary between
black wormhole: nowhere / that can be seen
daughter wormhole: looking ahead
history & time & war wormhole: mirror
love wormhole: ‘she shook the sweets…’
others wormhole: ‘the practice &…’
power wormhole: eyes like petals
quiet wormhole: – creak –
resource wormhole: the Apple
smile wormhole: light of all interaction
windows wormhole: YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams

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‘… plane is upright …’

07 Sunday Oct 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

1965, 2018, 7*, being, brick, buildings, carlights, circular poem, city, curtains, Dr Strange, existence, eyes, field, floor, guidance, hats, life, lightning, looking, moebius, moon, neighbourhood, passing, perspective, plane, rain, resolution, shadow, sign, speech, Stan Lee, steel, step, Steve Ditko, Strange Tales, streets, sun, throat, time, turning, vertical, walking, walls, way, windows

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                            when field of all temporal …
                                                              than just a façade but                           …
                                                                                                                                   …
                                      of steel and brick more                                                        … plane is upright
                                    the hatch and cross                                                                          and turned to perspective

                      windows, for a second                                                                                              and route is looped
               through endless endless                                                                                                      through the eye of

       neighbourhood boroughs                                                                                                               its own step, there will be
                 will be revealed as                                                                                                                     curtains of reign

   lightning where canyons                                                                                                                        through which to stride
             will always turn to                                                                                                                          oblivious, but the loss under-                                                                        

        but the reach of eye                                                                                                                             brim will seize the rear
 only to the next puddle;                                                                                                                            palate and numb the speech

       passing carlights look                                                                                                                          as eyes turn to look behind
 the walls and floors when                                                                                                                        themselves, save the

             enough to disregard                                                                                                                  moon will always guide
     leaving flit and twistreach                                                                                                               through dusty streets

          falls like inevitable treacle                                                                                                      far better than the beady sun
                 underbrim gathers then                                                                                               with all its signage and

                              as the ride across the                                                                                paraphanelia, no it is by
                              that resolve will be seized                                                                slanting blind shadows

 

Strange Tales #132-133, May-June 1965, Stan Lee; Steve Ditko: it is my contention that Dr Strange is strange because he doesn’t appear in his own event, he slips in and out at right angles to plane existence thence to vanquish solipsistic threat – story of my life

 

 

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

being & life & rain & walking wormhole: coterminalism – there is nothing happens by itself, / 070118
buildings & moon wormhole: the moon, the moon
circular poem wormhole: amid
city & sun & walls wormhole: space for probing thought
curtains wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
Dr Strange wormhole: ‘when travelling astrally …’
eyes & looking wormhole: ‘a blacknight fitted perfectly …’
field & speech & time wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Pigs
lightning wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – from arm to nature, doing nothing
wormhole
passing wormhole: Victorian pipework
shadow & streets & windows wormhole: LIGHT HEARTED WILLIAM by William Carlos Williams

 

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between

25 Sunday Feb 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2016, 6*, avenue, Batman, between, buildings, city, evening, eyes, looking, non-doing, rooftops, silhouette, sky, thought, throat

                of an early evening sky
                that roof top cables lay

                lank by flank of avenue
                of rise high building one

                might throw the weight
                of import in circles to

                follow where it lead but
                hold the eye open from

                throat to silhouette and
                do not flatter the process

                between

 

 

 

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

Batman & silhouette wormhole: Batgirl –
buildings & rooftops wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
city wormhole: 1964
evening wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
eyes & sky wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
looking wormhole: green and / luminant / to behold
thought wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – reaping

 

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organ / sunlight in all our eyes – poewieview #11

19 Friday Feb 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

1967, 2016, body, Bowie, breath, buildings, creativity, dress, eyes, Hammond organ, rooftops, sky, smile, streets, sunlight, throat, world

                                when sky was filled with
                                building, on another street

                                corner in the other world:
                                new relief of outbreath,

                                slow smile rasps the throat,
                                casting across rooftops;

                                new `scape of torso roll-
                                ing beneath the dress

                                of old; a new happening
                                of fairground stance in all

                                of our midst with organ
                                sunlight in all our eyes

 

standing on the street corner looking at the traffic go by: I’m Waiting for the Man, 1967; Let Me Sleep Beside You, 1967; Karma Man, 1967; In The Heat of the Morning, 1968

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

 

 

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

1967 & Bowie wormhole: crescendoeing cascade of chordage – poewieview #10
breath wormhole: the breath of London
buildings & streets wormhole: 1966 … actually sic // of it allllll-bsssssssh – poewieview #8
creativity wormhole: ‘my best writing happens …’
eyes wormhole: the MagOO Effect Effect
rooftops & smile wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
sky wormhole: dog bark
world wormhole: London Hearts – poewieview #4

 

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deeper

25 Thursday Sep 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2013, 5*, columns, dark, evening, olive, passing, pink, salmon, sound, speaking, temple, throat, town, unconscious

 

 

 

                past the deep pink-slash columns
                                of the temple
                                              steps wide and flanking
                                the salmon town behind
                                              in olive evening

                                              I needed to utter
                but my conscious mouth could not form
                                around the sound
                                              deeper than the back of my throat
                                dark as the shape
                                              that suddenly shifted in the temple

 

 

 

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

evening wormhole: tag cloud poem VI – anyone’s eyes
olive wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
passing wormhole: waiting room
pink wormhole: is she / looking at me?
sound wormhole: Batman#175

 

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breathe, be / and sit still

17 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2012, 7*, anxiety, beathing, being, growth, letting go, practice, reading, sitting, talking to myself, throat, writing

 

 

 

                the purpose of having a room to myself
                      a place where I can grow
                is not to train like an athlete
                      in reading writing and sitting
                but to interrupt the programme
                      to dispel the eyes-down anxiety
                                high in my throat
                                deep in my forehead
                                still on the page
                      so I can read and write and sit
                                              only

                been sitting for quite some time now
                getting worse and worse at it
                less able to sit comfortably
                                  creatively
                             healthily
                      because I sit with such grim
                in order to ride over the anxiety
                      that I just can’t sit
                      as I just can’t write
                      as I just can’t teach
                      as I just can’t love
                      as I just can’t influence
                      as I just can’t be
                                anything

                      and there I am
                with the problem and the antidote
                      all in one package
                      hook line and sinker
                      belts and braces
                      baby and bathwater
                      all in one sitting

                      and I missed it again
                      because I was anxious
                      that I was missing the whole point
                                anyway

                                exhalation
                                long and complete
                                a few seconds longer
                                before I would draw in again
                                without guile or gain

                                              breathe, be
                                              and sit still

 

 

 

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

anxiety & letting go wormhole: wider resolve
being wormhole: dream / 130207
breathing wormhole: gravity
practice & talking to myself wormhole: good job
reading wormhole: getting rid / of old books
sitting & writing wormhole: stranger / if we met

 

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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 …

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  • paisley // implicitly
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  • the inevitable tock // when we close our eyes
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  • taking birth
  • mirror
  • long / road
  • ‘in my car I pass…’

Uncanny Tops

  • 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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