BOMBMAKER, THIEF
And with
true Gallic verve, the French
bomb-making physicists
scoffed at my idea
that the quantum realm
infiltrates
our reality, gives it
scare quotes, mystifies its imagination, lets us
believe in a
physics of absurd probability
by virtue of the, quantum
field interface
with the human brain itself
how could
it not do?
makes perfect poetic sense
if we
involved in it
got to
reek of paradox
of
sudden vision of
an alternate
state of affairs
possibility of a
very different world
free of the thought
of species suicide, sudden
annihilation
those weapons gathered, harvested, taken
and trashed
meanwhile
back at the ranch, or
in the City of Lights
(whole thing formerly
odds on
doomed to
evaporate in a
single blinding flash)
that whole caboodle, despicable,
cosmically ignorant, arrogant arrangement
drowning as the Seine leaks in
floods the bottom
of Rimbaud’s drunken boat
in that
alternate universe I now
so many years
after the fact
fondly imagine myself
now placing them in
poems 2 die for 