Author Archives: Damian Garside

STUCK

STUCK

stuck a mirror
on the wall

opposite
the shelves
containing
my kingly
horror collection

clown
down the drain
Jack so dull
when the words
not flowing

wonder
     what bricked up
behind these booksp
(technically closet
skeleton can
never
read
its reflection)

mirroring these spines
such a blessing
              that when I die
they
   will not need
to search
to find whereupon
           read

scare themselves
                to death

OR TREAT

OR TREAT

Cop at the door
maybe a whole army

pity I can’t just airbrush them
photoshop them out of existence

perhaps that would be easier
to turn myself into a creature
being so
      legally ambivalent
that I distort the light
refract the truth
that your eyes, or,
what
   is more to the point, their
eyes can see

tell them it is all
a matter of perspective,
interpretation, disinformation

that things will always
                               sneak
under the radar
eager
      to deceive

Cop at the door
perhaps a whole army

failing radical camouflage
let me plumb for
         Jedi mind trick.

WRITE

WRITE

there is
ink
and then
there
is paper

there is
translated via
hexidecimal
from the
original binary

the keys
that you hit
and what you
see on the screen

sending
to other machines
that you will
be talking to
sharing with

loop of consciousness
between writer
and reader
     contained in
the image, twisted
by metaphor

bent into or
out of shape

by the demands of
quantum thought
pressure
       of gravity

and so the pen runs
fingers flow
         all so linear it
looks

which
      be deception, pure

linguistic treachery
(of the best
            and sweetest and
most se-du-ductive kind)

intransitive this verb
as Roland
           so redefines it

there is ink
and there is paper

a Universe waiting, on
for dear life holding

with every
       Rorschach blot masquerading
as concept
every singularity real
and imagined between
Heaven
        and Hell