DANCING WITH THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN
was heading due west
when the wheel
started to splinter, come
away in my hand
seemed like a vortex out there
demonic triangle
portal pulling me in
ghost ships
flying dutchmen following
me into
that gorgeous abyss
(sphere of the zombie, land
of the dead)
where, to be fair, I would find
locale most congenial
to consort
with Frankenstein’s creature’s
bride
the two of us in true tango,
monstering out first midnight together
drone
of supreme dissonance
about to
switch off my brain
and yet how
we spin
across the floor
illusion of
free movement
delusion of light speed
whilst
eyes still locked inward
split, almost dismembered
the limbs
scrabbling for somewhere
treading
ice water dragged across
the spectrum, shuttled forward
back like
a ball in ping pong between
what we are told
are complete hyperbolic poles
and now for
our videofest, hook up
for the podcast
think up
some catastrophic leveling
skimming like a
cruise missile, like
an angel of abomination
targeting
all hearts if
we have them
as I repent all
my falsehoods, so
shamefully having lied to you
to preserve my power
keep
my inverted commas innocence
not a deus ex machina
but brutal blade of a guillotine
falls and released
it is
just
the end of the poem
poems 2 die for 