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
IN CONVERSATION
In a parallel universe
that Adonis and Aphrodite
ruptured
the myth
with joy of together
went to the ballet, caroused talked life and poetry
over lamb souvlaki and
red wine
at a beachfront taverns
talked love and the
art of making it
stretch out
beyond infinity
until the early hours
can tell you now
given the
nature
of their divinity
this just has to be
the greatest conversation
on the
nature of love
spoken, whispered,
since the beginning of time.
OUR LITERARY HISTORY
scruffy rebel poets
Knights of the Realm
sometimes those
strangest of
hybrids that fall
into both categories
and there
in the schools
and universities
an industry at work
creating a mosaic
building a pantheon
that Shakespeare, whoever
he is, whomsoever
he was
can float high above everything
in great
volumes of cloud
Hamlet teasing the Danish
first minister to fix
upon absolutes where
all is
shifting significance
VAULT
opened the vault
hadn’t looked that
deep inside
for a very
long time
found your
photograph back there
brought all that
loss, sadness
to my eyes
and you
standing behind me
so passed it to you
you
looked sighed
kissed me softly
on the temple
on the lips
this the place
where all roads meet
all secrets
revealed
so close it must seem
to the end of time
GHOSTLY
did Hamlet’s father’s ghost
write Hamlet
in the same way
that
Shakespeare is
the ghost
the rest of the plays?
not a question
to pose to you
my friend Professional
my
world of cold truth so
riches to
rags of
its very nature
yours so
smartly sanctified
appropriately sanctioned
allowed you
to make money, get status
more more money
and status
writing this ghostly Shakespeare
than anyone ever
made
writing his
plays
IMMORTALITY
was striving
for the wrong
kind of
immortality
needed the kind
of accolades showered
upon Mr Charles
Bukowski
which in his case
was like
holy water
off a duck’s back
CRISP
the Sun
not yet crisp
have we
Aztec priests
to thank
for this?
crisp
is what the snow
in deep space
believes
itself to be
no
Sun
of any ilk
to bring
some
raging warmth
soften that reality
to what fits sweetly
within our range
whilst
we hold tenure
of
this place
PIECES
to be
or not to be
they will
not tell you
what could be
good move
never
mind best move
not a whisper
even a
glimpse or
hint
Knight, Queen, Knight
Pawn
kept under wraps
kept to themselves
just waiting for you to
hit the pitfall, move
without
seeing
odds so long against
pulling a Kasparov Carlsen
Fischer worthy gem
out of the hat
magic rabbit
of a combination
plan
(if that
be the word) not
as solid
as it seems, something
outside all
that you schemed walking
in through sudden
doorway
unpredicted
unobserved
asking you how
you going to get
out of this catastrophe
needing
strategy, fluidity,
flexability
your
calculations so
wooden
in Hamlet were chess
this would be the question
poems 2 die for