LID
Let me
shut the lid
the fallen, the victorious
even the defeated
are right as rain
whilst
there is no sang-froid
with our
two generals
in this game
of question marks
and exclamations
a different kind of
battle is determined
by the opening move
only now
ironically as
my eyes fail me
do I start
to see the patterns
too late
for that old crazy
dream of mastery
my default settings
not exactly in tune
with the
exponential dimensions
and configurations
of this impossibly calculated
not
a hint of gray eight by
eight square exact white
black world
wherein
you have the power
to wipe
the floor with me blindfold.
poems 2 die for 