I

Tags

2017, 6*, black, blue, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, city, doing, duality, eyes, following, identity, ignorance, opaque, orange, outside, power, sky, walls, white

                their eyes flashed orange
                and opaque – power of all things to try;

                along the high white walls
                outside of the city

                under the deep blue sky turning black, I
                followed them

 

flashed both from and within – Bodhisattvacaryavatara VIII, 9

 

 

 

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

black & walls wormhole: … the underleaves show
blue & white wormhole: mauve
city wormhole: between
doing wormhole: the balance necessary between
eyes wormhole: ‘oh my girls and muse …’
identity wormhole: letting them go
orange wormhole: polystyrene / boulderscape
power wormhole: Batgirl –
sky wormhole: abandoned sound mirrors

 

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mauve

Tags

1973, 2017, 6*, birdsong, blue, buildings, clouds, dusk, gold, hills, horizon, left, lime, mauve, mist, olive, right, sidewalk, sky, Steely Dan, streets, sun, syncopation, white

                                mauve
                                {Your Gold Teeth}

                in 1973
                                waste bins jumped up
                                                syncopated
                                                                all down the sidewalk

                down the street apiece
                                the olive and mist
                                                second-floor horizon
                                                                looked left

                                                                before the hills
                                                sun going down
                                in a Prussian sky
                {West of Hollywood}

                                to the right to the left
                                the bird on the single

                                remaining post called
                                the last lime skeak

                                to white curds above
                                the darkening hills

 

 

 

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

blue wormhole: Bridgnorth
buildings wormhole: between
clouds wormhole: all the low clouds keeping pace / through the train window, / always arriving, whether fast or / slow, but never actually moving
gold & sky wormhole: behind / glass walls and wan and hooded eye
hills & mauve wormhole: polystyrene / boulderscape
horizon wormhole: travelling // arrival
lime wormhole: turned backs of saddened victory
mist wormhole: is this it // all the time
olive wormhole: pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria
streets wormhole: coagulating
sun wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Making Hay
white wormhole: sharpened apex

 

sharpened apex

Tags

2016, 6*, Alhambra, apex, belief, colour, dimension, emptiness, faces, gap, Granada, hierarchy, hope, line, seeing, simultaneity, space, spontaneity, sublime, water, white

                I am sorry Alhambra
                I just didn’t like you much

                I wanted to, I always have the
                soft spot for the yawning gap

                and I wanted to hope that
                there was sublimity in your

                finest white line that
                proceeds in simultaneity,

                its exponential spaces
                spontaneous to behold: colour

                dimension, the faces of beings
                the trickle of water between;

                I saw it all but it was
                too demonstrable to see

                a monument to yet another
                hideous hierarchy and

                yet another shaved and
                sharpened apex

 

part of the pyramidical melange of: Granada & Other Poems

 

 

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

emptiness & space wormhole: lack of center
faces & white wormhole: ‘when travelling astrally …’
seeing wormhole: frame
water wormhole: next unexpected step

 

‘when travelling astrally …’

Tags

1964, 2016, 5*, black, clouds, Dr Strange, facade, faces, fingers, purple, sky, Strange Tales, texture, time, travelling, walls, white, windows, world

                when travelling astrally the
                eloquent fingers navigate the
                world which is flat white or
                receding black where the only
                elapse are the hands of time
                and the turn of windows in
                the facades of 3rd dimension
                and gargoyle faces bystand
                on walls; light leans between
                struts and the clouds texture
                the sky like purple worms

 

from Strange Tales #121, ‘Witchcraft in the Wax Museum’, June 1964; Lee & Ditko

 

 

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

black & Dr Strange & time & walls wormhole: coagulating
black & white wormhole: and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call
clouds wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Making Hay
faces wormhole: turned backs of saddened victory
purple wormhole: with all love released
sky wormhole: between
travelling wormhole: travelling // arrival
windows & world wormhole: frame

 

and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call

Tags

19th century, 2016, 20th century, 8*, access, air conditioning, alley, architecture, back, balcony, bay window, being, black, blindness, blue, burgundy, carlights, chimney stacks, clouds, compromise, contemplation, cross-section, distance, down, Eastbourne, eyes, facade, Ford Cortina, foreground, front, Have, height, hierarchy, history, hope, hotel, houses, inside, life, living, outside, passing, pier, pipes, privacy, prologue, promenade, sea, seagull, seeing, sky, society, sound, streetlight, sun, time, tree, up, Victorian houses, walking, walls, waves, white, windows

                and naerrgh a mention of a seagull’s call

                prologue

                the fetch of uneventful league to
                mingle with pier piles nonchalant;

                the borderline lightbulbs strung for
                decades between promenade lamp

                and stack of height and white façade
                of black-wrought balcony for where to stay

                setting

                frontage shows the way-to-look-
                ing blind to what is seen amid

                all the detail of hierarchy, eye
                turned to what it hopes, while

                rear windows, set central in
                the shapèd drop, look inward

                to find the fit to be; in time
                the rear extension of amenity

                cut fresh cross-sections of life
                turned 90° deep with windows

                unadorned; but then
                were added storey, creating alley

                to hidden access whenever
                contemplating the corners

                that encourage right angle
                where you can serve your

                down and truncating down-
                pipe blind to abutted wall

                perambulation

                                but, I’m in luck

                eye caught by extractor flaps
                in the foreground venting downwards

                venting upwards, sun neatly off
                the downpipes to the right

                on the left long-painted white pipes
                rusting, and between, a leafing tree

                undecided which way to lean
                the background, the monolith back

                of the seafront hotel, conditioning
                air; later, passing the backs of

                houses-become-their-own-entrance,
                seagulls perched at rest

                on the chimneys, I caught
                the tail of a reg-D Cortina with

                burgundy-deep fins and round
                tripartite lights, smaller

                than I remember

                epilogue

                oh, yes and a Persian-blue
                chimney stack with off-white pots

                under sky-blue sky
                and wisps of cloud

 

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: looking ahead
architecture wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
being wormhole: green and / luminant / to behold
black & blue & Have & living & passing & society & walking wormhole: Sheffield Park Gardens
burgundy wormhole: pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria
clouds wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Working
compromise wormhole: after all
Eastbourne wormhole: city streets
eyes & life & seeing & time wormhole: 1964
history wormhole: looking / ridiculous
hotel wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
promenade & sea wormhole: Bexhill 140215
seagull wormhole: do I
sky & white wormhole: travelling // arrival
sound & sun & windows wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – reaping
streetlight wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
Victorian houses wormhole: red / lacquer / door
walls wormhole: certainly a Captain, / but not America
waves wormhole: place

 

travelling // arrival

Tags

2016, 9*, arrival, attention, awkward, black, blue, breathing, calves, Carol, clouds, co-ordinate, ears, eye, fields, groundlessness, hedge, horizon, identity, karma, leaves, letting go, notice, passing, sky, smell, teeth, thread, time, travelling, white, wind, wind turbines

                travelling – no theme

                when the wind blows
                leaves turn and follow like
                dislocated jazz-hands

                everything is parting
                and passing all around
                … me (is that the theme?)

                I can’t find what to
                think or notice; in the
                corner of my eye a

                small black creature
                keeps pace, stretched in
                leap over field, through

                hedge, unspite, imhindered,
                depossibly, gathering
                everything in disregard;

                bit between molars (for
                weeks, for days?) wedging
                teeth slightly awkward

                has just worked loose;
                there are skies, there,
                certainly, high, silky

                and whipped, and then
                blue-coagulated drifting
                like a fleet, like calves

                crossing fields ears
                waving, as wind blades
                heave beyond hill horizon

                I conjeal            myself
                in notice, relieved with a
                thread and co-ordinate

                where for to breathe
                again but having lost
                so much more that I

                never had; Carol shuts
                the Kindle and leans; I
                smell her warm head

                for miles – arrival

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: before any writing
black & blue wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
breathing & groundlessness wormhole: is this it // all the time
Carol & clouds & sky wormhole: Christmas 2015
hedge wormhole: free
horizon & white wormhole: looking ahead
identity wormhole: without any buffet at all
leaves wormhole: Batgirl –
letting go wormhole: “I need help”
passing wormhole: I am not yet ready
smell wormhole: St. Edmund’s / Parish Church / Castleton
time wormhole: looking / ridiculous
travelling wormhole: Tara mantras
wind wormhole: after all

 

looking ahead

Tags

2015, 20th century, 8*, age, attention, cypress, dark, daughter, dress, duty, eyes, facade, father, field, fields, green, hair, horizon, house, jaw, land, left, lifetimes, medals, mouth, portrait, Remembrance, sienna, sky, smile, standing, war, white, youth

                                                looking ahead

                at 18 he peered frightened and gentle –
                the high forehead and round jaw of all
                his youth, but that his mouth held duty

                faintly pursed on the left, in reserve and
                to attention, although the epaulettes were
                (the wings of a choirboy) – at the strips

                and strips of field and fields of umber
                and sienna and the deepest darkest green,
                as high as the land was wide, and it was

                wide, to the white-washed house perched
                on the higher horizon flanked by European
                cypresses, at home in the fields; at three

                she looked above the horizon, hair in all
                direction to the sky, the purse to the left,
                in attention and wan smile from above

                the ruffled dress (soon to be outgrown with
                every crumple-ene); the medals were worn
                on the left side, the eyes up to the right;

                they stood together to attention, in profile
                before the wet facades of eleventh hour,
                eyes forward, eyes down, pursed and still

 

three photographs in the house of an old friend: her father when newly enrolled in the army shortly before World War II – he served in Africa; herself in her then-best dress in the very early 1960s; father and daughter standing on a wet street collecting for Remembrance Day …

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
attention & smile wormhole: dear Lucy
daughter wormhole: mother and daughter
eyes wormhole: addictive
father & lifetimes wormhole: granny
field wormhole: walk from Castleton to Hope
green & white wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
hair wormhole: immeasurable love
horizon wormhole: Bexhill 140215
house wormhole: slightly / uphill
mouth wormhole: over-pink cagoule
sky wormhole: low afternoon
war wormhole: memorial

 

Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211

Tags

2011, 2014, 2017, 6*, architecture, birds, birdsong, blackbird, blue, branches, breathing, brick, bus, cars, change, child, childhood, church, coat, coffee, coffee shop, crane, crows, death, echo, Eglinton Hill, evening, football, friends, green, handshake, Have, hill, houses, lifetimes, light, looking, mother, Mum, newsagent, no effort, notice, passing, pigeons, Plumstead, Plumstead common, quiet, roads, smiling, sound, step, streets, Thames, thought, time, trees, voices, walking, white, windows, Woolwich

        Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211

        the crane holds effortlessly over from behind
        the houses and trees cables thrumming always
        cold and eventually it will all be dismantled;

        the diesel car purred slowly downhill, a pigeon
        dropped down behind it walked around a bit;
        through the leaf-clean branches of the young

        tree the Edwardian cornices and tops along
        Plumstead Common Road, don’t collect thoughts,
        t a s t e them without notice, deep and wet

        with no tice – much less effort – while walking,
        every once in a while the wall steps up a brick
        I search for being clear again … step, while

        walking stop, and breathe the beauty, stop
        and smile a little thought for you; in St. Mary
        Magdalene’s ground the mother has turned

        points to the trees, birds fly off and land, the
        toddler steps and stands among the pigeons
        while the mother brings the abandoned scooter

        but then in New Road holding the handshake
        shaking between exchange the firm friends
        look at each other only occasionally; while he

        he Had a coffee heated sandwich iced bun
        crisps water £8.89, busses passing bulbous
        over the dark green and hanging shade; up

        the hill on the coldstreet stepping downhill
        out the newsagent the bright blue padded
        jacket and the single bounce of a well-inflated

        basketball with simultaneous echo inside; the
        while on a wall opposite his Mum’s flat dead
        almost 12 years now watching a boy with a limp

        and the 53 bus working between parked cars
        and the crossing island with air suspension
        and when it was quiet the dark coat and white

        trainers crossed the road paused and into the
        newsagents but then I didn’t see where she
        went; the constant echo of boys’ voices playing

        football on Plumstead Common off Acacia
        Terrace 1890; and I can’t see 46 Eglinton Hill
        where I’m sat, conifers grow so quick, but

        `doesn’t matter, I can’t see the blackbird singing
        a different collect each time either; crows on the
        chimneys of 40/38; for a minute the blackbird

        stopped no vehicles uphill downhill, lights
        went on across the river and each house had
        the face of lifetimes in their windows;

 

Every year and a while I travel 40 miles up to Woolwich, where I grew up, to check that the journey I make started off in the write direction (HA!); while wandering I write, leaning on peoples’ front walls and making a coffee last in a cafe (and every once in a while I treat myself to an afternoon bench); walking downhill from Plumstead to Woolwich and around and back, in time; those who know Woolwich and Plumstead (all none of you across the world wide, as far as I can tell, although you have got Google maps, if you’re really interested) will [be able to] recognise as they appear: South Circular coming up to Well Hall roundabout, Eglinton Hill [childhood home], Plumstead Common Road, St Mary Magdelene’s Church, Woolwich New Road, [along A206], Waverley Crescent (top of Griffin Road), Plumstead Common (proper), back up Eglinton Hill …

 

 

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

architecture wormhole: pen and ruler
birds wormhole: open window
blackbird & change wormhole: relief
blue wormhole: low afternoon
branches wormhole: between
breathing & coffee shop & evening & sound & time & windows wormhole: amid
bus wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop III
cars & green & trees wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
child & streets wormhole: red / lacquer / door
childhood wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
church wormhole: ‘someone …’
coffee wormhole: Mark & Jon at the coffee shop I
crane wormhole: Luton // couldn’t make a poem out of it
crows wormhole: the ancient tree
death & light & Mum wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
echo wormhole: circuitry
Eglinton Hill & Plumstead wormhole: lost and city ground
Have & looking wormhole: found
lifetimes wormhole: cape and cowl
mother wormhole: mother and daughter
passing & roads & leaves wormhole: leaves
pigeons wormhole: municipal garden
quiet wormhole: the quiet whale
Thames wormhole: to rescue something
thought wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
voices wormhole: I keep / waiting to be discovered and get lost in anticipation
walking wormhole: cinnamon / milkshake
Woolwich wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams

 

leaves

Tags

2014, 4*, coat, hope, leaves, life, notice, passing, red, ripple, roads, scarf, texture, traffic, Wadhurst, white

                                                settling easy with the ripples and billow

                                of hope and assure leaves
                                notice of sudden texture

                by the way

                                on the other side
                                of the busy road

                                the red coat and
                                white scarf waving

                                carrying
                                shopping

 

 

 

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

leaves & white wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
life wormhole: red / lacquer / door
passing & red wormhole: glide
roads wormhole: a nice grey woollen picnic blanket
texture wormhole: the sitting room

 

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?