CONSTELLATION

CONSTELLATION

assuming the feral position
in the loadshed dark
on my bed
with a dying cat
my
  beautiful dying cat

I cannot wait for two
weeks to pass and I hit
what just has to be
my final birthday

don’t give me
rebirth
      I would be
kicking and screaming against
the very thought
of consciousness
                  possibility
of coming back

not to be u grateful
not to disrespect life, that
                sacred most
magical
      of things

but thanks but
                    no thanks

leave me be for that trillion years
until the Universe is a dead weight
of iron and
          burnt out coal

and the last civilizations who had
their faith who had their dream
are
      long long gone

maybe
      like us they had their astrology
astronomy cosmology

their genius mettle. 
                      born under
the constellation
                        which loosely
translates as the dying cat

BRIEFING

BRIEFING

I gave a briefing
to the creatures
from Wonderland
lest they wrongly
assume our
Alice-rational world
be opposite
    in the extreme

for disappearing cats
and talking caterpillars
might here
        be a real rarity
we do have
  skies full of zinging
tic tacs
        bouncing around
at Mach Twenty-three

yes things interdimensional
or extraterrestrial
    craft manned and drone
with who
      knows what superior
artificial intelligence and
advanced personnel
technologies which
make us look
      like we barely out
of the Stone Age

I wonder what
      fantastic, Wonderlands rich
in characters

these brilliant beings
and their magical technologies
are not
      able to create to
      amuse their
                    ancient selves.

SUPERPOSITION


SUPERPOSITION

I am your
local, friendly
quantum
mechanic

here to fix
your
    robotic
companion

no
  ulterior motive
no
  judgements cast

will just
      Turing Test him/
her/it
take it through all its
algorithms
    its binary times tables

soon you will be talking
like two telepaths

perfect synchrony serendipity
and fits-like-a-glove
                  superposition.



PIE

PIE
“a piece of pie”
2010: The Year We Make Contact

A piece of pie this monolith is
the cosmonaut said, unaware
how he was caught or
framed by
HAL’s beady eye (I say
“HAL” but you know
I must be alluding
to his Russian equivalent)

the monolith such
an iconic object by now
in all technologically advanced
civilizations

giving us the smarts to
nuke the entire
planet in
defence of our waterhole

and all on that hill
we havd sworn to die on

no the monolith though
teeming with stars looks
like a thick sheet of rolled steel
block of
planed wood

so much in our culture (ask
HAL!) revolving around
the battle
between steel
and wood.

POST YOUTUBE

POST YOUTUBE

post YouTube
we live in a differenf Universe
where aliens
fly through our atmosphere
like sardines
in the sea

and there is great conspiracy
to create
the ultimate conspiracy
in theory we know
just how diabolical this can be

so just
sit back, relax
watch on two screens so
you can becoms your
own twin-slit experiment
you may not
know her beyond
her avatar but
you do seem
hopelessly entangled

and if those sweet words
professing love eternal
spiritual
sustenance and
emotional protection

sound
too good to.be true
don’t worry
my child, soon
they will tweak your bestie
rework their
AI
and soon you
will be
squabbling so
intimately human

post YouTube you can
TED talk it through

SAILOR

SAILOR

I sailed out to the end of the ocean
but found only
meaninglessness
when I had been
expecting land

and in this space
where nothing is of consequence
everything forced or
obligatory
I found myself
in one sense floating at random
through a cold, deep darkness
in another sense
absolutely rooted
to the spot

but that spot moving because
here there is no stationary
and yet no
clear causality or
direction
to follow

and I wondered about love
and every love message

were they spoken too softly
or did I, to my shame and
destruction
of life somehow
someway

contrive to channel
them away
blot them out

I sailed all the oceans and
appear
to have learnt nothing

RINGER

RINGER

RINGER

message        massage

he thought
TV
    was a
    mirror

a magical mirror

said
      as much

and so it was
          the world
                          laughed at him

that laughter
        pretty much a dead ringer
for all
  the canned laughter on TV

Sent from my iPhone

BAMBINO

BAMBINO

BAMBINO

“Vivam!” Ovid,
“Metamorphoses”

so, bambino,
you wish to discover
life’s dark secrets
    cannot wait until
you mature enough
to mesh in perfectly
with the official orthodox sanctioned
screwed up version

and so
    your childhood has been ruined
by sudden advent of
erotic imagination

in my writerly stupidity me
thinking any
        imagination in this
corporate dystopia
got to be good

and that
      now your English way
better than ever my
French, or indeed
                  my surreal Latin

now you
        the new Henry Miller
on your
    way to next
    Shakespeare