Category Archives: 1, poem, poetry,

ROOM

ROOM

stet
Heraclitus you are wrong
this man
   cannot step
into that bed
river mibd a river

back up a bit
let’s forget media res
simply
   start at
the beginning

virtual particles abounding
no hope of
even one
     actually actualizing

promise of this moment
never to be realized
come and gone

so many wave fronts
from bed to couch and
back again
  washing over me

you
   by now
sleeping serenely
me maybe
astral travelling
as far as I can tell

room to
expand, manoeuvre

room
for doubt

here we
      make love, don’t
make love

roll two lovely snake eyes
so you may guess
which
   forked path

possibilities, probablities,
green light
    for go, red
for full stop

in this little ecosystem, tiny
echochamber things
horribly resonant

yes
   roll those bones
roll
    with
the flow

tick the will
they won’t they
        take what’s
in the box

you know
    whose doomed cat
is waiting
in that box

the whole nature of
connection, entanglement

now
   premised on our moment

and what other, kinder worlds
have decided for themselves
have themselves
found out

let them
     film the morning after
still through a lens
of blessed
   enchantment

Pan panning with magical
camera across
the mystical space
that will
            always
be
   her bedroom

for the record (record of
flautist playing
the firsf
    time I ever saw
her face)

nothing
to see here

CONVERGED

CONVERGED

all points converging
here
   to be converted

or maybe
   being in the South
everything
    is separating
and

I’m just
looking upside down

doing the TS tarot
hanged man thing

worm
   looking up at me
must think me
a skygod down
for day
   of revelation

need to do the eeh-aah Doppler
taste
    test to

get our highest quality
low down

meanwhile the world
is locked in court case

jury
   back inside for this

MAGIC MIRROR

MAGIC MIRROR

magic mirror
on the wall

is not
this mirror
at all
at all

in this mirror curse
of Other is more subtle
than ranting
       Malificent or

Dorian Gray
    beautiful tainted (rapturously
so)

Oh this is
     life’s work

work here slow,
brush
stroke after
brush stroke

every revisit a sense of
shift
   of movement of
time’s accumulation

time
    having
such a good eye, such
a fine touch

pixel after pixel
we move from promise,
to potential
   to sharp revelation
(the shadow
   that was ever could
not now
    be more clear)

something
in those final
      subtle touches

translation into speech
that tells the whole story

something flesh not
marble
    bone not bronze
soon to here appear

SWEET

SWEET

ordinarily
poem is sweet

but here
there are
dark places
and terrible spaces

and so
tread lightly
as you
consider yourself warned

and what
   is “sweet” anyway
how to
   best define it

as I am drawn to you
as bee
   to pollen, wasp
to honey

such a sight you
are beautifully polarized

nothing looked
ever better
    to these compound eyes

SHARK

SHARK

thought
it was a
shark

but it
was a devil’s thorn
easy
   mistake
to make

this desert once
an ocean
a million
years back

wonder though
with a
    shark’s ferocity
(almost as
     fierce as your Zulu,
Mongol or Viking)

why there is
no such thing
as a “devil shark”
their names:
Tiger and
Great White and Nurse
and Zambezi

far too
   kind and respectful if
you were to ask me

WAS SLEEPING

WAS SLEEPING
(AT THE TIME)

my consciousness
your consciousness

was sleeping
whilst someone something
kept turning
off and on the tap
of consciousness

giving me the in out
impression
    I am living my life
in a stop motion universe
wonderfully animated

too hard in this strobe like
flicker
    to catch hold of a semblance
of corporeal identity, gravity,
divinity

submit to
all that is commonly agreed
to be
   the holes in
best philosophy

holding the friendly
hand rail
      tight as I might

at the
same time fretting
at the presencs of everything
exceeding my capacity

linear trajectory here of
minimal relevance
to what
lived
       at this frequency