#2505 -- notes from nowhere to no one at all

 

2505

7.313

11.xi.26

notes from nowhere to no one at all

meditation on the means, the making

for wise surprise

 

I pull one out of the thinnest air

I tug it loose of weft – a juggle

breezily

 

it’s just this mischief I only make

make parapet, pop

I vanish in it

 

down the hutch

chew a thousand times first

lost track in order to

 

open, let in

let the idea out

nopw only this image remains

 

must make my own beyond by touch

dead burdens we call time

one must always wonder

 

what has been meant

it’s as if we had always lived here

so always will

 

this is the grief of my gift

#2504 -- a scribble and a scratch

 

2504

7.312

10.xi.26

a scribble and a scratch

ekphrastic for Mio Pang Fei’s 1997 ‘Ordeal of the Nation’

 

in an ink drowning, in a splash

there are faces, there are signs

 

among scattered leaves

are stars

time sinks in

 

mountains and dark declivity

 

swift linger

 

one cultivates an accident

 

if a body, dismember

– the gestural vestigial

 

paint is thicker than canvas

 

everyone leaves some kind of light

 

there’s risk of falling in

 

it’s just that kind of ghost

 

this will all be over soon

 

 

#2503 -- this town is too old for me

 

2503

7.311

9.xi.26

this town is too old for me

Macao reprise

 

blown bubble of concrete

 

trip hazard city

 

they run a stream through the garden for a breeze

 

past shade

climbing where the hot air rises

no veranda but a cage

 

there’s a street of baby formular pharmacies

beauty and fitness reign

 

that’s money for you

 

sometimes aircon will leak through a crack –

the weather of a lost world

 

a building may stand to rot

 

only the blue collar workers can afford to smoke

it’s so they keep the sun at bay

 

life’s short, so sweet

 

Tour #77 stumbles through the Lisbon cobbling

each has a badge to say

 

there are too many words

they are too familiar

 

the town has torn itself down again

 

people with phones are about to collide

 

streets go where they will

 

have to make my own souvenirs here

 

I’m just one of the ancient sages  

 

past my use-by now

#2502 -- be kind to a self

 

2502

7.310

8.xi.26

be kind to a self

 

any will do

and sometimes they’re all among us

pinch and there’ll be skin

 

is there anything on my face?

 

ghost in the mirror

 

smoke – comes in the shape of a body

 

one and another and not

even eyeless insensate

 

be a slef yourself

why not?

 

an kindly so

take your time

it will come to you

 

some say ‘give it away’

they’re just dreaming

   to be a tree

 or wing it

 

be kind to a self

you have one you know

perhaps several, maybe many

best yet next

just try

 

it’s as if we were here all along

 

#2501 -- woke with the blue

 

2501

7.309

7.xi.26

woke with the blue

 

old urge

in a head and elswhere

 

stepped out abroad

if there’s a world

 

they were sweeping the leaves of a morning

 

I would look up

 

find myself in a garden

 

and until last of light

 

walking away and towards

 

have known that spark

 

lost myself among the stars

#2500 -- in the belly

 

2500

7.308

6.xi.26

in the belly

 

I am the same as the mountain

I am as with the tree

I am as gone as any cloud

as empty as the air we breathe

 

that’s to be nothing at all

 

fix an eye on this

 

we are all victims of  the unknown

 

I am just as tall as the tale I can tell

it’s a fish this big that caught me

it’s the sea that threw me back

 

#2499 -- there is an art

2499

7.307

5.xi.26

there is an art

 

there is an art of seeing through

… people, things, a proposition

 

there are walls you must imagine

            or else

 

there is a street not there, never was

 

this is the way to unsay

 

these are the steps never taken

 

names with no place now

            empty air

 

the glance with least suspicion

       a vacancy of eyes

 

I have to persuade myself

   that I’m here

 

this is the way of the wish