• 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: white

‘from the cathedral window two stories / high …’

20 Friday Dec 2019

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2019, 6*, air, balcony, bamboo, blue, breeze, clouds, cream, doors, facade, grey, height, history, pastel, pink, sweet-pea, Totnes, vertical, white, windows

                from the cathedral window two stories
                high above town

                the eiderdown cloud has settled
                patchwork greys

                (and pastels blue
                 through the pulled-back door to the

                 balcony); there
                and here, the various facades all cream

                and white, but
                the haphazard verticals of the sweet-pea

                crane pink
                with-out the bamboo spine

                exercising constant flexed ligament to the air
                but not the breeze

 

still in Totnes; ‘stories’ are definitely … sic

 

 

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

air wormhole: psssssh
blue & grey wormhole: travelling,
breeze wormhole: on / that / day
clouds wormhole: travel // when I die
doors & windows wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – valley
history wormhole: despite all / depiction
pink wormhole: riders of the night
white wormhole: nowhere / that can be seen

 

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nowhere / that can be seen

01 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2019, 6*, being, black, evening, headlights, orange, river, roads, silhouette, streetlight, Sunday, Totnes, travelling, trees, white

                late from the evening:
                the second-floor apartment

                the lights are Jacksoned
                all about the hill, some orange

                and insistent, some white with no design
                to the gash of nothing

                of the river; wait, solitary
                headlights work slow down the road

                into town, but’s OK, it is
                Sunday, they sidle idly behind

                tree-silhouettes and get nowhere
                that can be seen

 

in September we looked after the apartment of our friend in Totnes; we do this from time to time; this time we travelled by train – takes the best part of a day to travel just over 200 miles; we arrived and settled and it was already getting dark; the apartment has a wonderful window, a cathedral window, from the floor apexed into the roof looking out over Totnes settled either side of the river Dart: there’s nothing for it, many evenings, but to turn out the lights and look across the valley at the lights …

 

 

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

being & black & orange wormhole: travel // when I die
evening wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – I took my camera into the fields
river wormhole: at Kreukenhof
roads wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – sooner; / and later
silhouette wormhole: riders of the night
streetlight wormhole: sometimes
Sunday wormhole: PASTORAL by William Carlos Williams
travelling & white wormhole: travelling,
trees wormhole: on / that / day

 

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travelling,

25 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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'scape, 2019, 5*, afternoon, blue, crane, direction, fields, golf, grey, horizon, passing, patchwork, pointing, pylon, sky, towers, train, travelling, white, wind turbines, yellow

                travelling,

                an accord of yellow cranes
                pointing all in the direction passed

                golf greens flat and patchwork
                before fields of pylons on the horizon

                pointing awry in the sky yielding
                to cooling towers spuming in the direction passed

                into the sky until the white wind
                turbines underline the blue and grey afternoon

 

travelling north through the midlands to Cumbria back through 32 years of time …

 

 

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

afternoon & passing & sky & train & travelling & white wormhole: travel // when I die
blue & grey wormhole: blue sky high
crane wormhole: poessay XI – piquant love
horizon & yellow wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – valley

 

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travel // when I die

02 Saturday Nov 2019

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2019, 7*, accountability, afterlife, afternoon, architecture, bardo, being, black, brick, brown, buildings, capitalism, century, clouds, crane, data, death, decades, dedication, depth, doing, echo, fields, floating, green, ground, Have, height, horizontal, identity, industry, interdependent origination, iteration, length, lintel, London, magenta, mind, notice, orange, passing, perspective, pillars, presence, purple, rain, rainbow, red, reference, ripple, rooftops, russian vine, samsara, sandstone, sapphire, self-cherishing, self-grasping, silence, sill, sky, sound, speech, Thames, thought, tide, time, train, travelling, trees, Uckfield-London line, utility, walls, white, world, writing

                                                                                travel

                                                                                noticing
                                                                at all is a product of
                                                                shifted perspective
                                                                related to behold;

                                                                when I’ve nothing to write
                                                                I’ve lost any perspective,
                                                                cornered by both these walls
                                                                I’ve walked along

                when I die
                this mind will no longer whorl about this pinchèd self
                in a world of diminished return and profusion of iteration

                                                                cranes atop
                                                                pulling them further up and up
                                                                from the ground on which they
                                                                balance on receding point;

                                                                communities of them
                                                                each taller than the last and the next
                                                                all along the wharfs
                                                                of endless account

                it will be expansive
                high and up in industrial and sandstone sky
                it will fathom all the deep of brown kelp in shifting purple

                                                                kilometres long
                                                                courses of brick
                                                                grimed black and utility-studded
                                                                updown onoff foothold and wire

                                                                ripple along nicely
                                                                across right-angled centuries
                                                                and occasional shot bolts
                                                                of deepest russian vine

                with no sound
                save diminishing echoes of a pleading late self
                having nothing left to refer to and nothing left to here, and

                                                                believe it or not
                                                                a rainbow exponential
                                                                to the white arch of Wembley
                                                                we’ll chase for miles

                                                                orange shimmering to
                                                                magenta through staccato tides
                                                                out and over flat roofs
                                                                on and into the fields

                all data wiped –
                suds off my hands from my shoulders –
                and did I back enough up for some grander vector to reach?

                                                                where trees grow from ground
                                                                shaping over decades
                                                                green-flamed cupolas
                                                                clamped to the sky

                                                                and from perspective passing
                                                                of open field
                                                                turn – creak –
                                                                the whole world

                I may well
                have built pillars of cleverness and thought:
                plinthed, fluted, capitaled and giddyingly architraved …

                                                                and there
                                                                Lancashire red brick
                                                                with high and whitey
                                                                sills stale and lintel

                                                                before washed-out
                                                                sapphire-afternoon of steely sky
                                                                and horizontal fingers of
                                                                scud-rain

                … but they’d just
                floated there upright in space ‘neither use nor ornament’
                straining on the string in my baby-fat hands, I’ve

                                never really
                                made stuff happen
                                and didn’t have to try

                                more than let more and more
                                of stuff happening anyway
                                happen through me

 

train trip; East Sussex to London to Lancaster to Ulverston, Cumbria; where we lived for three years and started a family; stay at Swarthmore Hall; visited Conishead Priory where we lived for 18 months after marriage and graduation; notes and observations on the journey, sense of bridging 32 years of lifetime(s); notes > (maybe) two poems, but two which could nevertheless not be separate, although distinct, like train tracks; three years retired, still processing if I achieved anything in this capitalist and samsaric world …; London centuries old, still processing …; architecture as the stage-scenary of endeavour; the ‘here’ in the 9th stanza is definitely (sic); this is, positive

 

 

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

afternoon & sky wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Sky
architecture & thought wormhole: “And anger it is that lays in ruins / every kind of mental goodness.”
being wormhole: 11/1 by William Carlos Williams
black & sky wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – valley
brown & green & walls wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – The Valley
buildings & crane & rain & red & speech wormhole: riders of the night
capitalism wormhole: `whappn’d!
clouds wormhole: at Kreukenhof
death & identity wormhole: psssssh
doing wormhole: writening
echo & mind & passing & sound & time wormhole: – creak —
Have wormhole: on facing the Have
London wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – An Old Piano
orange wormhole: ‘don’t look at it …’
purple wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – I took my camera into the fields
rooftops wormhole: Great Bridge, Rouen, 1896
samsara & trees wormhole: breakfast
silence wormhole: window
Thames wormhole: London, 1809
train & travelling wormhole: beneath
Uckfield-London line wormhole: early // Minoan & Mycenaean Exhibitions in the British Museum – diptych
white wormhole: 10/22 by William Carlos Williams
world wormhole: none and all
writing wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – sooner; / and later

 

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10/22 by William Carlos Williams

20 Saturday Apr 2019

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'scape, 1928, 7*, barrel, bayberry, birch, dog, field, grass, green, leaves, orange, rain, red, water, white, William Carlos Williams, yarrow, yellow

                that brilliant field
                of rainwet orange
                blanketed

                by the red grass
                and oilgreen bayberry

                the last yarrow
                on the gutter
                white by the sandy
                rainwater

                and a white birch
                with yellow leaves
                and few
                and loosely hung

                and a young dog
                jumped out
                of the old barrel

 

out and not wet from The Descent of Winter, 1928

 

 

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

birch wormhole: Hastings: neither all or nothing
dog wormhole: London refugee march – 120915
field wormhole: ‘… plane is upright …’
green & water wormhole: Puerto del Carmen
leaves wormhole: travelling / back
orange & red & white & William Carlos Williams wormhole: The Atlantic City Convention: 1. THE WAITRESS by William Carlos Williams
rain wormhole: Rain, Steam and Speed – the / Great Western Railway, 1844
yellow wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees

 

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The Atlantic City Convention: 1. THE WAITRESS by William Carlos Williams

12 Friday Apr 2019

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1928, 6*, arms, Atlantic City, beauty, being, black, blue, candle, cheek, city, colour, communication, daisies, dress, ears, eyes, fingers, glass, green, grey, hair, hands, hips, knuckles, lips, looking, matches, mirror, mouth, movement, open, orange, others, portrait, poverty, red, reflection, ring, ruby, sea, seagull, silence, skin, sound, speech, temptation, thinking, walking, waves, white, William Carlos Williams, windows, woman, wrists, writing

                            1. THE WAITRESS

                No wit (and none needed) but
    the silence of her ways, grey eyes in
    a depth of black lashes–
    The eyes look and the look falls.

    There is no way, no way. So close
    one may feel the warmth of the cheek and yet there is
    no way.

    The benefits of poverty are a roughened skin
    of the hands, the broken
    knuckles, the stained wrists.

                Serious. Not as the others.
    All the rest are liars, all but you.
                                        Wait on us.
    Wait on us, the hair held back practically
    by a net, close behind the ears, at the sides of
    the head. But the eyes–
                            but the mouth, lightly (quickly)
    touched with rouge.

    The black dress makes the hair dark, strangely
    enough, and the white dress makes it light.
    There is a mole under the jaw, low under
    thr right ear–

                And what arms!

                                        The glassruby ring
    on the fourth finger of the left hand.

                                        –and the movements
under the scant dress as the weight of the tray
    makes the hips shift forward slightly in lifting
    and beginning to walk–

    The Nominating Committee presents the following
    resolutions, etc. etc. etc. All those
    in favor signify by saying, Aye. Contrariminded,
    No.
      Carried.
                And aye, and aye, and aye!

    And the way the bell-hop runs downstairs:
          ta tuck a
                ta tuck a
                      ta tuck a
                            ta tuck a
                                  ta tuck a
    and the gulls in the open window screaming over the slow
    break of the cold waves–

                O unlit candle with the soft white
    plume, Sunbeam Finest Safety Matches all together in
    a little box–

                And the reflections of both in
    the mirror and the reflection of the hand, writing
    writing–
                Speak to me of her!-

                –and nobody else and nothing else
    in the whole city, not an electric sign of shifting
    colors, fourfoot daisies and acanthus fronds going from
    red to orange, green to blue–forty feet across–

                                        Wait on us, wait
    on us with your momentary beauty to be enjoyed by
    none of us. Neither by you, certainly,
                                                nor by me.

 

with love from Poems, 1928

 

 

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

beauty & speech wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
being wormhole: so, how long is, a piece of string?
black wormhole: Impression of Winter: Carriage on a Country Road, 1872
blue & grey & writing wormhole: Hastings: neither all or nothing
city & William Carlos Williams wormhole: prose piece 2 from POEMS 1927 by William Carlos Williams
communication wormhole: agreed termination without prejudice
eyes wormhole: between
glass & red wormhole: travelling / back
green & woman wormhole: on facing the Have
hair wormhole: SPRING & LINES by William Carlos Williams
hands wormhole: THE LONELY STREET by William Carlos Williams
looking wormhole: waiting to be heard
mirror wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
mouth wormhole: glamour of saṃsāra
open wormhole: animus rises – powieview #37
orange & others & walking wormhole: Rain, Steam and Speed – the / Great Western Railway, 1844
reflection wormhole: I
sea & seagull & waves wormhole: Staffa Fingal’s Cave, 1832
silence & sound wormhole: Vue de Pontoise, 1873
thinking wormhole: there will be ovations
white wormhole: alabaster balustrade
windows wormhole: birth in the world

 

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alabaster balustrade

04 Monday Mar 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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2019, 6*, balustrade, going, holiday, Lanzarote, path, pedestal, pediment, perspective, shadow, staying, time, white, yin yang

                alabaster balustrade demarking
                path and apartamentos

                white and shadow curled about
                the bulbing drop,

                shadowed under pediment and
                white along the pedestal

                a hundred times
                in precise perspective either way

                will yin and yang
                within almost noticeable elapse

                so that it will
                no longer matter whether you proceed or stay

 

white & shadow contemplation from the terrace of a February holiday in Lanzarote

 

 

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

holiday wormhole: coterminalism – there is nothing happens by itself, / 070118
path wormhole: Impression of Winter: Carriage on a Country Road, 1872
shadow wormhole: St. Erasmus in Bishop Islip’s Chapels, 1796
time wormhole: and … // … sound
white wormhole: intent

 

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intent

03 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

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1967, 2018, 5*, avenue, Batman, buildings, cape, contemplation, cowl, dark, night, passing, skyline, tree, white

                past avenues of uprise
                one can only prowl intent

                but oblivious, there may be
                clean white skylines under

                the darkest nights but
                contemplation under cowl

                or tree foreshortens
                the sweep of the deepest cape

 

Detective Comics #370, Dec 1967, writing John Broome, art Sheldon Moldoff

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: pediment to behold
buildings & passing wormhole: travelling / back
night wormhole: Fishermen at Sea, 1796
skyline wormhole: ‘a blacknight fitted perfectly …’
white wormhole: pursued

 

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pursued

09 Wednesday Jan 2019

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1970, 2018, 5*, Batman, branches, cape, doors, fingers, growth, history, holding, land, legacy, opening, purpose, questioning, reaching, responsibility, shadow, society, warp, weft, white, wings

                the clench of cape
                into wing opens heavy doors

                into questioning
                that will be pursued despite

                occasion of legacy
                billowing in after-tow o’er

                hill and vale
                and where leafless branches

                reach, fixed
                in growth, it is fingers will

                pull beyond
                the furl and flack to present

                as white shadow
                in response

 

Detective Comics #403, September 1970, “You Die By Mourning” by Frank Robbins and Bob Brown

 

 

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

Batman wormhole: ‘streetsigns …’
branches & history wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Trees
doors wormhole: A Solitude by Denise Levertov
shadow wormhole: on facing the Have
society wormhole: {reading right to left}
white wormhole: SPRING AND ALL XXII by William Carlos Williams

 

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SPRING AND ALL XXII by William Carlos Williams

06 Sunday Jan 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

1923, 6*, art, being, categories, chickens, education, existence, form, imagination, interdependent origination, knowledge, life, nature, poetry, quote, rain, reality, red, water, wheelbarrow, white, William Carlos Williams

                so much depends
                upon

                a red wheel
                barrow

                glazed with rain
                water

                beside the white
                chickens

 

from Spring and All, 1923; “wait, is that it, one of his most famous and quoted poems, and that’s it?”; well, no … this poem was actually nested within a whole weave of contemplations and exclamations to the contrary (quoted liberally, tatteredly and patch-workly – sorry, Bill): “the fixed categories into which life is divided … exist – … not as dead dissections … but in a different condition when energised by the imagination … but at present [early 1920s, America, and hence the upcoming androcentrist reference, I do apologise] knowledge is placed before a man as if it were a stair at the top of which a DEGREE is obtained which is superlative … the inundation of the intelligence by masses of complicated fact is not knowledge … it is on imagination on which reality rides … it is a cleavage through everything by a force that does not exist in the mass and therefore can never be discovered by its anatomisation … it is for this reason that I have always placed art first … art is the pure effect of the force upon which science depends for its reality – Poetry … poetry has to do with the crystallisation of the imagination – the perfection of new forms as additions to nature …”

 

taken from Ali Shapiro at http://blog.pshares.org/index.php/poetic-analytics/: I hope she doesn’t mind – those venn circles, they were so cold and so sweet

 

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

being & life wormhole: on facing the Have
education wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – On Doing Nothing
knowledge wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Trees
poetry wormhole: oh, alright then
rain wormhole: THE GREAT FIGURE by William Carlos Williams
reality wormhole: coagulating
red wormhole: SPRING AND ALL I by William Carlos Williams
water wormhole: sun setting over a lake, 1840
white wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
William Carlos Williams wormhole: SPRING AND ALL XI by William Carlos Williams

 

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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
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    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
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    • 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
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recent leaks …

  • “…and may the great elements…”
  • paisley // implicitly
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  • the inevitable tock // when we close our eyes
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  • me
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  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
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  • 'hello old friend ...'
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category sky

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tag skyline

'scape 2* 3* 4* 5* 6* 7* 8* 20th century 1967 1979 1980 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 2019 acceptance afternoon air Allen Ginsberg anxiety architecture arm in arm attention awareness Batman beach beauty bedroom being birds birdsong black blue Bodhisattvacharyavatara books Bowie branches breakdown breathing breeze brown Buddha buildings career Carol cars change child childhood children city clouds coffee shop colour combe end comics communication compassion compromise crane creativity curtains dancing dark death distraction divorce doing doors dream Dr Strange earth echo Edward Hopper Eglinton Hill emergence emptiness evening eyes faces family father feet field floorboards garden Genesta Road girl giving glass gold grass green grey growth haiku hair hands Have hedge hill hills history holiday hope horizon house houses identity kitchen leaf leaves lemon letting go life lifetimes light lime listening living London looking lost love management managerialism mauve meaning mind mist moon morning mother mouth movement Mum muse music night notice open openness orange others park passing pavement people performance management pink Plumstead poetry pointlessness politics portrait posture power practice professionalism purple purpose quiet rain reaching reading realisation reality red requires chewing river roads roof rooftops samsara sea searching seeing settling shadow shops silence silhouette silver sitting sky skyline sleep smell smile snow society sound space speech step stone streetlight streets sun sunlight superhero table talking talking to myself teaching teaching craft Thames thinking thought time train travelling trees true nature university voices walking walls water waves white William Carlos Williams wind windows wood Woolwich words work world writing years yellow zazen

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