ONCE AGAIN
who knows
what lived there
in that stinky,
dirty brown pond
iced over
beautiful again
or so
it seemed to me
back then
here trying
to put into words
my childhood memory
ONCE AGAIN
who knows
what lived there
in that stinky,
dirty brown pond
iced over
beautiful again
or so
it seemed to me
back then
here trying
to put into words
my childhood memory
SCRUB
scrub what I
said
previously, delighting
in your company
I am not prone to
insincerity, bound
to lie
about my infidelity
not going to dictate to you
theoretical or
otherwise (perhaps
the thread
running
counter-clockwise)
nor will I
allow myself to be
railed (meaning
mono-rsiled)
unwittingly into it
led by
the nose to find
Nature’s soft truth
bound by
those laid-down trails
marked out
as alluring reams of
ribboned finery
that all the world
might see and believe
no let me
unusually direct
sparing in
extravagant epithet
or punctuational necessity,
far from being
abstract voyeur or
philosophical contemplation
stuck at my window desk
sifting through papers
so much
snow, white
space
inside and out
already falling, falling
beginning to fall
already
up to my neck in it
obviously lost count of it
not a
bird (in the hand or
bush)
nest
to cuckoo in
within a proverbial mile
BANK ON IT
would not want anyone
written out of the picture
nor should I agree
with law of the bottom line
a wild economics
of division, profit, superfluity,
greed
will not stand, leave
anyone standing
alternatively, I do not
see myself, feel myself
in my millions
spruced in
standard blue overalls
waving proverbial red book
to spite laws of Nature
would
that we
had such power
were
a true collective
but
bells roll
walls fall
astronomical figures
locked in binary
simply
disappear
my anaconda
mythic tail-
swallowed, tale closer
inches closer
I hope
pray to God
I reach the counter before
countdown to closure
.
before
time goes Dali, melts
at its
leisure
but it would not
be prudent to bank on this
IN PARTICULAR
so much to give
no one
to give
it to
you in particular
telling me you have
no need for charity
(or space
for that matter)
and me
here laying before
all that I am
every tiny package
oscillating,radiating energy
enough
to cure, curve
kill
perhaps I should
stretch my mind
to accommodate,
rethink everything
no one
affording me
the time of day
giving me the feedback
needed to survive
MODIEGI
you flowed
with life
you flowed
with me
you raged
against life
raged
against me
and now
this broken life
this world of silence
world of breadcrumbs
world where
you have become
an object lesson
as to the power
of the monster within
to ravage
and destroy
with
sweet
impunity
PURVIEW
What is you woke up
none too tetchy this morning
only to find your whole lived life
was dream within a dream?
what would be
your prevailing emotion:
terror?
anger?
confusion?
something that you felt
no word might label?
would you
compose a haiku?
draft
a philosophical compendium
truly titanic tome
floating fine but
then there was this iceberg
a thousand pages devoted
to every letter entry
(except
for S
which got a thousand-and-one)
or would just as you always do
always have done
shrug shoulders
take it in your stride
why to worry about
metaphysical mayhem
when comfort zone
is
somehow there
ss logical necessity
infinite realities and
yet
within or
way beyond
your purview
it
keeps its name
forever stays the same.
FOR ITSELF
I skinned
that poet
who dissed me
most uncivilly
and now
strut
my stuff
wearing him
like a hat
and since he
figured himself
to be the next
Shakespeare
the finery of
my millinery
has to
be de rigeur
so obviously
worn with
a stylish slant
that speaks
for itself
NO WORRIES
no worries
be not alarmed
all she is quantum
physicist slash leather biker
cosmologist
spouts electro-
magnetism and
I could die for that tune
oh when those words
hit me
bumper to
bumper
(brutal the noise they make
down that Shannon
Weaver channel)
pretty quickly better
wheel me to launch pad
announce to Mr Musk
that she
gone lit my fuse
get NASA and the Ruskies
to clear
my trajectory
find
a love conducive planet
where
we can
make our home
in the goldilocks zone (and
one two
three
bares)
we can do
that fantasy
the gravity little
atmosphere
care free
kindly
Xenomorph of
utopian politics and
soft
epistemologies
so me and my cosmologist
can feedback loop gone
apeshit
obscenely cybernetic in
cute sexual secrecy
MOSTLY
“They come out at night. Mostly.” ALIENS (1986) (dir: James Cameron)
so quiet
almost peaceful
in space
a hydrogen bomb drops
fast as a feather
equally silent
here however
our parents together
gambollihg in the garden
innocent
unfallen
not even
a grazed knee
everything on course
ticking like an Swiss watch
ticking
also
somewhere down there
way beneath their feet
something in
the rock and stone
down below the earth of Eden
that nourishes everything
shedding heavy particles
yet
no need for caution, nothing
yet to worry about
and there
to one side
a much disgruntled, disfigured figure
recent transformation
put him in the arcana
rendered him archetypal
whose tale
could be more cautionary
whose loss
the stuff
of insanity
and yet the flicker of a smile
a flash, a spark
and with it
a vision
of annihilation
.
countdown close
ending begun
SOLVE
to comprehend the lie
you would have
to go back
to the beginning
of life
before
the fetal position
read everything scan all
those media flashes and
opp ends
from before the
dawn of time
masts and headlines
kick up
a fuss
deconstruct
every word, not
believe anything
sift through
every fable
every conspiracy
every secret
every
hole
back to
Plato’s cave
and its
very first troll
and
every major minor
gaslight that
masquerades as history
liberal radical
whatever what
not worth
the clay
tablet
so-called stylus
scribe
wrote it down on
and there it is
here’s where
it starts
chain reaction
of all
that is
unquestioned
where
it all
got stuck
became impacted
unable to solve
resolve dissolve
impossible
to redress