wasted –

Tags

2013, 3*, being, doing, living, lost, sea, waste, waves

                                day spent
                                doing my
                                own thing
                day spent doing things for others, both

                                wasted –
                                I was not
                                there –
                lost in the shallows of the sea along the flat shoreline

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: nothing significant
doing wormhole: Salisbury Cathedral // suspended in everything
living wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
sea wormhole: chartless …
waves wormhole: the bench

 

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Nostalgia for Samsara – poewieview #16

Tags

1969, 2016, Bowie, children, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, communication, faces, Have, laughter, looking, samsara, sight, society, walls, waste

                                              Nostalgia for Samsara¹

                look of faces, face of look and the fidgeting
                curls and weave of sight between the walls

                where children watch elders reclined and
                solemn-veiled beneath laughter and barter,

                bittersweet-inured to their shamèd Have and
                wanton squander amid scattered teak rubble

 

seen what shouldn’t have been seen because it couldn’t be noticed: Wild-Eyed Boy from Freecloud, 1969
¹ one of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche’s phrases

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

 

 

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

Bowie wormhole: life [‘n’ death] / legerdemain – poewieview #15
children wormhole: when writing // stay
Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche wormhole: I can say / that I do all sorts of dance
communication wormhole: teached / in the ass
Have wormhole: ‘went up to London and what did I see; …’ – poewieview #7
looking & society wormhole: keep the light off
samsara wormhole: “write, let’s break outta here!”
walls wormhole: seventy two, perhaps – poewieview #9