POETS: LOVERS
poets, lovers
do not
write to each other
there is nothing
that the pen
might not
misconstrue
the text
ripples, extends
finds
ever widening-spirals
and there it is
wrong dot on
the page
that universe of distance
bursting forth, already
in its
moment of forever expand
AWAKENING
nearly drowned
astral travelled
but no
awakening
no joining hands to
form a chain of light
chain of fire
what will come
and this last, great connection
will exceed all our expectations
AWAKENING
nearly drowned
astral travelled
but no
awakening
no joining hands to
form a chain of light
chain of fire
what will come
and this last, great connection
will exceed all our expectations
UND DRANG
drama of our lives
our deaths
our light
and dark
reverberates
I catch your
gist
as it floats between
worlds like
all the others
if night is good
is repose, gives
relief
so too
the singularity
so too the abyss
EXACTLY AT THIS POINT
left my mind
on the helter skelter
and you
first Dan, halfdan, third
Dan
whatever Dan you are
rollercoaster father
smirking sublimely
heavens of cloud
light and dark cloud
above me
and she
who I wanted, needed
so much at
that moment
MJM of the shapely legs
and thighs
crashing into me at top
speed perversely
has anyone ever
received such a thrilling smack
in a dodgem bumper car
and the theorists speculating
on the nature of carnival
hum
a good tune
talk a good liberation
and falling in line
(such a
ragged line)
with every compadre
of that persuasion
I wanted to
go guttural
get down and dirty
be
the sublime poet of
the sewer if only
for a brief
moment
outdoing the inimitable
Charles, universal stereotype
of this poet
Oh helter skelter
must be
a surreal repetition
to have
that guy Manson
sweep back
into fashion
and me
at the pinnacle of the
rollercoast exactly at
this point
PILGRIMAGE
skimming
our coastline
trawling
deep
sooner or later
they discover
our poetry
stumble across
that great outlier
that is
Ingrid Jonker
are captivated by
her sharpness, passion,
fierce emotional
honesty
and intensity
and yet
whenever I find myself
at the place she drowned,
marked by
her tiny, sun and sea
spray
battered monument
I get no sense of this
in wildest dreams
ever
a place
of pilgrimage
LEFT TO SAY
since she
is
goddess,
divine
it would have to be
mortal Adonis
to make the sacrifice
to tell their story
get
those beautiful,
painful words
upon the page
and there it was, their
love saga
captured forever
magnificent creation
and there Adonis lying
finally in the arms of grieving Aphrodite
mission accomplished, nothing
more for him left to achieve
nothing more
left to say
CONTEXT
concrete
is the context
of everything
wrote a
concrete
poem
going for
a concrete concrète effect
so you can run your
fingers through, across
plunge
them into the
harmonies
discordances
of this here poem
context is
the concrete
of everything
final framing of
all that
can mean
PARFAIT
the power
of modern technology!
Aphrodite and Adonis texting
each other smartly on their
smart phones
think that
flying into Paris is
what it will take to
make their
sweet assignation
one
for the ages
parfait
parfait
parfait
sublimely digital
in every which way
poems 2 die for