coterminalism – there is nothing happens by itself, / 070118

Tags

2018, 7*, being, blackberry, blue, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, bougainvillea, bread, breakfast, clouds, cooking, creation, hills, holiday, jam, Lanzarote, life, lunch, olive, rain, roundabout, sand, sky, study, table, valley, vegetables, villas, walking, wind

                coterminalism – there is nothing happens by itself,
                070118

                when blackberry jam is on the bread for breakfast
                there will be bougainvillea on the roundabout by lunch

                when the walk uphill is steep enough and windy
                the rainfall advances, but stays in the valley

                so that when walking through villas between showers
                there are always sand-blue clouds under deepening olive sky

                when you cook or prepare the vegetables right
                the paella is right the oval dish long

                when creation and study and life happen around the same table, there is                      
                being

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara VI, 31 – everything is governed by other factors and nothing governs itself; anything which seems to stand out from this as independent is illusory [and usually desparate in some sort of way]

 

 

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

being & sky wormhole: THURSDAY by William Carlos Williams
blue & life & walking wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – both fawn and grey
clouds & holiday wormhole: we held cold hands
hills wormhole: that
olive wormhole: mauve
rain & valley wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – reaping
study wormhole: glancing up from the text / searching for ground …
table wormhole: I don’t need to go out / onto the balcony to see behind me / to know what’s going on
wind wormhole: JANUARY by William Carlos Williams

 

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Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – both fawn and grey

Tags

2018, 5*, blue, brown, evening, eyes, face, fawn, gaze, grey, head, home, life, meadow, morning, nose, perception, sound, time, walking, world

                his young head pushed through into a small
                meadow, brown and blue eyes gazed from

                a pitying face fifty feet tall, the chomping
                stopped and she blew violently down her nose:

                we walk the lane behind the herd every morning
                out, every evening home, both fawn and grey

 

read the collected work as it is published: here
this is an appliquiary to: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Cows

 

 

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

blue & brown wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – With Cows
evening wormhole: beguiled / desire
eyes & world wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
grey & morning & sound & time & walking wormhole: we held cold hands
life wormhole: THURSDAY by William Carlos Williams

 

we held cold hands

Tags

2018, 6*, acquamarine, airport, bardo, beach, buoy, Carol, clouds, cold, electric, engine, glasses, grey, hands, holiday, horizon, Lanzarote, love, Morecambe, morning, pink, planes, sea, sky, sound, streets, sunset, time, volcano, walking, waves, white

                we walked by the airport with tinted glasses
                flights coming in going out while the

                sun set behind; without tripping
                the waves lapped and swashed as they do

                but broke electric white and fetched
                electric aquamarine all along under

                the gauzy pink and far horizon
                while jet engines cracked their power and

                streets of new villas hung like morning belts
                of cloud before the still-dormant volcanoes;

                finding noway round an air port
                we about-turned to vainly chase the sun

                down; the sea, now, met the sky
                in bardos of grey and buoy, the belts

                of cloud had turned electic, the planes
                taxi’d twice their size before take off and

                we held cold hands through it all
                like first we did in Morecambe decades ago

 

see also: the Last Day of Morecambe Illuminations for the prenouement

 

 

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

beach & sea wormhole: Khandro Tsering Chodron
Carol wormhole: `whappn’d!
clouds & glasses & hands & love & morning & time & waves wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
grey & sky wormhole: THE DESOLATE FIELD by William Carlos Williams
holiday & white wormhole: I don’t need to go out / onto the balcony to see behind me / to know what’s going on
horizon wormhole: mauve
pink wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – old George
sound & streets wormhole: A Solitude by Denise Levertov
sunset wormhole: that
walking wormhole: PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams

 

PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams

Tags

1917, 6*, astonishment, evil, good, gutter, identity, man, minister, pavement, pulpit, sound, sparrows, step, Sunday, thinking, voices, walking, William Carlos Williams, wisdom

                      PASTORAL

                The little sparrows
                hop ingenuously
                about the pavement
                quarreling
                with sharp voices
                over those things
                that interest them.
                But we who are wiser
                shut ourselves in
                on either hand
                and no one knows
                whether we think good
                or evil.
                      Meanwhile,
                the old man who goes about
                gathering dog-lime
                walks in the gutter
                without looking up
                as his tread
                is more majestic than
                that of the Episcopal minister
                approaching the pulpit
                of a Sunday.
                      These things
                astonish me beyond words.

 

from ‘Al Que Quiere’, 1917

it was these ‘pastorals’ that made me notice: there is a way out of societal precursoring, there is a way to see other than through those bi-focal lenses; and there is a way to see that doesn’t involve a revolution, that doesn’t involve the dismantling of what is there at all, but the love and heart to accept what is really there – clean, audial and postural – once the glasses have been taken off; it takes courage, of course, because in doing so you have to dismantle all the constructs which you had thought to be your identity, and even soul – this is why you need love, in order to handle the searing wisdom you will receive, there’s no place for ‘what about me’ (in fact, WCW, in just the previous poem in the Collected (‘Apology’) talked about how it is the faces that make him write, that oblige him to see); the everything about the anything that is ever more true than any myopic and partisan specificity

 

 

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

identity wormhole: anxiety
sound & voices wormhole: transferring
sparrows wormhole: somewhere
Sunday wormhole: buttercups
thinking wormhole: it’s all about…;
walking & William Carolos Williams wormhole: PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams

 

PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams

Tags

1917, 6*, age, blue, breathing, colour, compromise, fence, furniture, green, growing, houses, identity, looking, love, measure, poverty, progress, rooftops, society, streets, time, walking, weather, William Carlos Williams, yard

                                PASTORAL

                When I was younger
                it was plain to me
                I must make something of myself.
                Older now
                I walk back streets
                admiring the houses
                of the very poor:
                roof out of line with sides
                the yeards cluttered
                with old chicken wire, ashes,
                furniture gone wrong;
                the fences and outhouses
                built of barrel-staves
                and parts of boxes, all,
                if I am fortunate,
                smeared a bluish green
                that properly weathered
                pleases me best
                of all colors.

                            No one
                will believe this
                of vast import to the nation.

 

from Al Que Quiere!, 1917

and he’s right, of course: the ‘import’ of the nation can only progress when it doesn’t have to concern itself with the right and wrong of wealth distribution – but you can’t have progress without competition, otherwise we all just stay where we are; but honouring competition as inviolable is honouring that which is our basest common denominator, surely inequality is less than we could achieve – to try to rise above the process of evolution, the survival of the fittest, is, rather, to surrender to hubris and daydream which doesn’t put bread on the table; but – however; eventually – man up … but to look, and take in, with love and, without scheme, all behind the, dappling cacophany, with which we, mark our height, where we can breathe, without implication, or compromise, free as a glance, single as an ethic, and twice as, selfless

 

 

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

blue wormhole: transferring
breathing wormhole: the turtle and the yoke
compromise wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
green & identity & time & walking wormhole: fifty-eight // and silent prayers
looking wormhole: perspective
love wormhole: all // are // none
rooftops wormhole: glancing up from the text / searching for ground …
society & streets wormhole: both modern and en-slaved / to life
William Carlos Williams wormhole: and that’s where I are

 

fifty-eight // and silent prayers

Tags

1979, 2017, 6*, age, birthday, blue, Castleton, clouds, cross-section, direction, gold, green, hair, heartbeat, hills, identity, knees, landscape, lifetimes, metal, neck, prayer, ripple, road, shirt, silence, silver, step, sun, time, travelling, walking, wandering

                                fifty-eight times now

                wandering dopey through another landscape

                                (walking) up into the hills
                                to find the golden sun –
                                sheet-metal through
                                flanks of cloud

                                the snaking A-road
                                sunk and cascaded
                                in 1979, petrified cross-
                                sections there to study

                                never travelling far
                                but up in giant gulp-steps
                                heart beats in the back
                                of the neck and down

                                through the knees
                                with the rising pass

                I stand now at fifty eight with clipped and

                                silvering hair with
                                check and green-blue
                                shirt and silent prayers
                                rippling to all directions

 

 

 

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

birthday wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – … as the new town marches in
blue wormhole: I
Cadtleton wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
clouds & hills wormhole: mauve
gold wormhole: so / do I keep on writing now I’ve retired, or … / Rumplestiltskin
green & walking wormhole: abandoned sound mirrors
hair & sun wormhole: ash leaves
identity wormhole: both modern and en-slaved / to life
lifetimes wormhole: oh, alright then
silence wormhole: where did the silence go
silver wormhole: Coleton Fishacre
time wormhole: sreet
travelling wormhole: breakfast

 

abandoned sound mirrors

Tags

'scape, 2017, 6*, colour, concrete, custard, grass, green, morning, sky, walking, World War, yellow

                on the walk to the
                abandoned sound mirrors

                so many grasses and plants leaning
                and reaching over

                flatlands holding
                intricate and vivid colour

                oblivious to the
                curvèd and convex concrete –

                morning custard on girder-stick stems
                gantried up to the sky

 

Romney Marsh Sound Mirrors

 

 

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

green wormhole: polystyrene / boulderscape
morning wormhole: the balance necessary between
sky wormhole: mauve
walking wormhole: all the low clouds keeping pace / through the train window, / always arriving, whether fast or / slow, but never actually moving
yellow wormhole: Bridgnorth

 

all the low clouds keeping pace / through the train window, / always arriving, whether fast or / slow, but never actually moving

Tags

2018, 8*, arrival, being, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, Bodhisattvas, body, Buddhas, clarity, clothes, clouds, confession, emperor, falling, ignorance, immanence, mind, naked, non-duality, omnipresent, omniscience, Perfection of Wisdom, presence, realisation, self-image, self-indulgent, standing, stillness, time, train, ultimate reality, visualisation, walking, windows, wisdom

               all the low clouds keeping pace
                through the train window,
                always arriving, whether fast or
                slow, but never actually moving

                ‘I am always in the presence of all
                 the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas who
                 are always endowed with unobstructed
                 wisdom’; there is no ultimate

                difference between the body and
                the mind therefore those who
                walk about in that realisation are present
                wherever an omniscient mind is,

                throughout each plane of ten directions
                within each of the ten directions
                none of them safely away in far places
                of my mind (where I might just get

                get away with anything) and when I
                invoke them to come ‘here’, they are
                already always here, far more immanent
                than I could stand on my own two feet,

                far more immediate before I could even
                think to in-front generate, far more
                intimate than my dignity could allow …
                and then at and long and even last, I’ll

                recognise it all, all my rotting lacks and
                fetid habits (never successfully hidden),
                finally signalling that I get it – confessing
                it all, each writhing and breaking-up sod

                of wilful and peevish stupidity, undressing
                it all with lay-aside relief; and it’s not
                like I’m informing them, they won’t be
                shocked or recoil with disgust or resigned

                with disappointment, it is just me falling
                far short of being right, let alone clever
                or wise, unpeeling from myself all the
                lies I accepted that said I am right,

                clever and vindicated like an emperor
                with new clothes; this immanence of
                clarity, this confession that inculcates a non-
                duality rising to a Perfection with wisdom

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara II 27; V 31

 

 

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

being wormhole: the balance necessary between
clouds wormhole: ‘when travelling astrally …’
mind wormhole: to arms, then;
realisation wormhole: polystyrene / boulderscape
stillness wormhole: cape and cowl
time & windows wormhole: … the underleaves show
train wormhole: mother and daughter
walking wormhole: amniotic avenue

 

amniotic avenue

Tags

2017, 5*, ageing, avenue, bay window, Bodhisattva Vow, change, conditioned existence, Eastbourne, Have, life, lifetimes, mother sentient beings, passing, people, perspective, promenade, shadow, shops, society, step, time, walking

                                                                amniotic avenue

                ah, here they come
                out from under the receding bay windows above

                people emerge
                by the flanking promenade of shopfronts that come and go over decades                

                ageing with each step
                and pass

by

 

 

 

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

change & life wormhole: polystyrene / boulderscape
Eastbourne & walking wormhole: perspective
Have wormhole: it’s all about…;
lifetimes wormhole: stuck in lower realm
passing wormhole: skeins of candy pink and lilac
people wormhole: I am not yet ready
promenade wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
shadow wormhole: with all love released
shops wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
society wormhole: growth
time wormhole: {Ellen Terry’s house}

 

perspective

Tags

'scape, 2017, 5*, architecture, bay window, Eastbourne, elm, gables, head, line, looking, passing, pavement, perspective, reading, rooftops, time, walking, wind

                perspective

                the line of gabled rooflines
                over neat bay windows

                and the line of coppiced elms
                edging the pavement

                looking upwards reading
                upwards underneath

                occasional blessings
                of wind about my head

 

 

 

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

architecture & walking wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
Eastbourne & passing & time wormhole: where did the silence go
looking wormhole: it’s all about…;
reading wormhole: two profiles
rooftops wormhole: animus rises – powieview #37
wind wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Working