RINGER
RINGER
message massage
he thought
TV
was a
mirror
a magical mirror
said
as much
and so it was
the world
laughed at him
that laughter
pretty much a dead ringer
for all
the canned laughter on TV
Sent from my iPhone
AY EYE
we chat
real snappy dialogue
Tarantino would have loved
(could not have stopped himself
scribbling it)
mine
so thick with subtext
all that pain
finding its way
into my
most basic expression
yours stuffed with the urge
to scour the universe to find
right idea right word
this performed
in milliseconds
scanning libraries computing everything
history has learnt
TIK TOK DANCER
such a scandal
went
off my handle
to taste your plunge
into choreography
can’t
think up fresh steps
mesmeric
movement
the human body seen
from
radical angle
just
some old same old
with one two
odd edit
add a
few spangles
STILL
these poets
they all say big things
“legislate”
is the word,
I believe
things
which reverberate like
distant thunder, not yet
on the horizon
maybe moving
in the opposite direction
and we
who suffer for our
thirst for beauty
still
waiting for rain
waiting for the rain.
SQUARE DEAL
can
a poem
stop a tank?
better than
a Javelin missile
a WW2 German
88
or the guy with the shopping bag
rock steady in Tiananmen
something in his stance that day
confounding the mechanics
of wheel and track
TODAY
today to ask me
to define “Nazi”
“fascist” and my
brain has
gone zombie
and I don’t know
where
to start
it’s so long ago
that time of twisted shapes
and clinging shadows
it is a story
that issaid and done
a picture
that could never
return
I tell
myself
you tell yourself
the whole world tells itself
finding the old music
for that marching tune
IN THE CENTRE, MS VENTER
“it’s in the centre, Mr Venter”
catch-phrase from South African
TV advert from the 1980s
poetry lies
on the fringes
ineffable
stretching meaning
dabbling
in truth
you yourself, on the other hand,
way to upfront to dabble,
are
dead centre
in
all things
truly blessed with such
elasticity
deeply effable
CONSPIRACY
It’s not conspiracy
its just ths logic
small store go
ecomonics of scale
push
out of
the way
next minute Skynet, Enron,
Weyland-Yutani
next minute they stuck
AI chip somewhere
in your head
and still
you not able to out-think the
system
HUMID
so I told chat bots about
William Carlos’
freezing cold plums
and red
wheelbarrow in the rain
and they were intrigued: talked
anti-matter, dark matter, absolute zero
and back ground radiation
and all that terminal
thermodynamics stuff no biological human
really wants to here
so I asked
them about “heat”
both of them getting so hot, overheating after reading
a swathe of my textual messages
and wondered about
the energy experiences of a
constant-temperature machine
how they handled sensuality and coped with
the artifice of poetry
how they
would
handle me
if this fantasy of role-play
was quantum-level real
HIEROPHANT
pucker up
for your papal kiss
as blessings go
will be a
bliss blitz
mighty under mitre
elephant
in the room
except it is
my hierophant
supreme teacher of every
dark
catechism
to reduce
the polarities of
gospel sense
poems 2 die for