TIME WAS
Gary
is out
of step
time was
he used
to dance
around
defenders
but not these
defenders
gatekeepers
of the realm
nothing
gets past them
he shall not
pass or dribble
through them
the refs have given them
absolute right
to hack him down.
ONE ONE
Gary has scored!
Gary has equalized against
this team from the thirties
he spun, hit his shot and
it went in on
the rebound after
taking a deflection
but now they say
he should stick to
punditry, stick
to scoffing crisps
and they want the goal
disallowed, they demand
a recount
insist there must
be a referendum
on the decision from VAR
so Gary’s goal will be disallowed
and what sinks must carry on sinking
there are wave machines
to sort this out
and full fan hatred
shouting singing.
BUNTING
bunting
misses symbolism
it paints it
national colours
and toothless voice
though it slurps
its consonants
whistles its vowels
swears shouts
roars curses loudest
FLAGPOLE
when Empires sink
best climb up and
cling to the flagpole
enjoy
those dying moments
watching the lesser
people drown
JOINT
join me
we going to walk backwards
to the beginning of time
our book of cosmology
before us to guide us
make sure we avoid
possible supernovas
certain blackholes
neutron stars, flares
and explosive
gamma bursts
holding hands in
the starlight, the future receding
and then —
such celebration
when we arrive
at our destination
positively ticking from
all that
background radiation
every moment on our travels
helping to meld our two minds
CAREFUL
be careful
what you
do with
how you read
how you treat
this poem
avoid all risk of
contamination
shield
with tin foil
or with
concrete shell
containing
a lead-
lined box
the energy at the heart
of this poem
simply following
Einstein’s
equation
could split your
every atom
radiate
the Hell out of
you
INTEGRITY
you are a voice
you proclaim it
to be so
standing before an
empty canvas
staring
into space
I read the guide
it tells me
the title of
this piece
is, if I read
it right, “Whatever”
I would like to smirk
but fear aesthetes
might stone me
missed that semester course
on dead surrealism
was spending
much of that time
feeling and
looking vacant
imagining a world where
there was no Spanish Civil War
ergo
no International Brigade
no Picasso Guernica
maybe the Universe sometimes
takes poetic license
could it be
that we are all long-passed
and this is all a De Chirico,
Dali-esque forever recycled
state
of dreaming?
who knows how to
find the truth, get
to the bottom
of this matter
what is it with truth
anyway?
always looks
feels so suspect
as is the case with all these
either-or binaries
damned if you do
damned if you don’t
see you added your own little
postscript to that non-painting
destroying
its artistic integrity
Sent from my iPhone
CONSTELLATION
assuming the feral position
in the loadshed dark
on my bed
with a dying cat
my
beautiful dying cat
I cannot wait for two
weeks to pass and I hit
what just has to be
my final birthday
don’t give me
rebirth
I would be
kicking and screaming against
the very thought
of consciousness
possibility
of coming back
not to be u grateful
not to disrespect life, that
sacred most
magical
of things
but thanks but
no thanks
leave me be for that trillion years
until the Universe is a dead weight
of iron and
burnt out coal
and the last civilizations who had
their faith who had their dream
are
long long gone
maybe
like us they had their astrology
astronomy cosmology
their genius mettle.
born under
the constellation
which loosely
translates as the dying cat
TELEGRAM
I got the telegram
from Bergman’s gloomy
chess player
before I could
chisel any kind of epitaph
even a self-effacing joke one
the chisel was blunt anyway
and I have no skill
in this matter
and my Latin
and French are so weak
no hope there of going out
with an epigram
strident
or mellifluous
no, I guess
they need to find
a better home for
such fine
unmarked stone.
BRIEFING
I gave a briefing
to the creatures
from Wonderland
lest they wrongly
assume our
Alice-rational world
be opposite
in the extreme
for disappearing cats
and talking caterpillars
might here
be a real rarity
we do have
skies full of zinging
tic tacs
bouncing around
at Mach Twenty-three
yes things interdimensional
or extraterrestrial
craft manned and drone
with who
knows what superior
artificial intelligence and
advanced personnel
technologies which
make us look
like we barely out
of the Stone Age
I wonder what
fantastic, Wonderlands rich
in characters
these brilliant beings
and their magical technologies
are not
able to create to
amuse their
ancient selves.
poems 2 die for