ON SHOW
rolled the dice
looked at
the sky
couldn’t figure out
if there was any synchrony
any meaningful signs
or were there
no connections, not
even mere
coincidences
the leagues of shapeless
forever mutating cloud
clearly insisting
it was all a hoax
nothing in the box
nothing behind the door
if there were
they should know
if there
were
they should know
not
to protest
too much
but there is nothing
there to hope for
nothing there to show
THE PROBLEM
the problem
the essential problem
of the war
against evil
is that the army of the good
fighting a war
against evil
might so easlly
fall
into evil
whilst
the army of evil
fighting a war
never
falls into good
THE WIND CAME
the wind came
blew me to
Timbuktu
all of which time
I found myself praying
that it might treat
you more softly
gently, with
more care
waft you
somewhere that
could not be more
congenial
more conducive to
the realisation of
all your basic
and
more intimate
desires
viewed from
where I find myself
so
far, far, far
from you
STREAM
livestream
bloodstream
that dam
has burst
but
when it comes
to what is in those brains
best I can say
is it
thick as porridge
thick
as muck
definitive it be
nothing flowing
from
point A
to point B
much backed up
at point D for
devoid
D for
diabolical
stupidity
where whirpool-churned
it just
congeals as
brutal distortion, doling
out of
death
all in the name of compulsion
and voice
from above necessity
ABSURD
in a poem
it gets so absurd
the whole thing
can be changed
by
one word
for the piece
at hand
it’s life
or death
the shift of shade
you now express
FRACTAL
I am
a fraction of myself
I write
and my words go haywire
my thoughts
splinter
sorry, did I say, “fractal”?
I meant “fraction”
here signifier signified
losing
do much traction
wandering
off the track
the word game that
is consciousness is
forever process
already out of words, too
many for comfort,
a devil of a deal
to
select
and already by now
the devil much with me
impossibly
deep
within me
telling the compound tale of
moments, incidents
(much
sensory doubt, semantic
slippage)
forever fractious, terminally
forgetful
defining the case of
what all I might speak.
OR TREAT
Cop at the door
maybe a whole army
pity I can’t just airbrush them
photoshop them out of existence
perhaps that would be easier
to turn myself into a creature
being so
legally ambivalent
that I distort the light
refract the truth
that your eyes, or,
what
is more to the point, their
eyes can see
tell them it is all
a matter of perspective,
interpretation, disinformation
that things will always
sneak
under the radar
eager
to deceive
Cop at the door
perhaps a whole army
failing radical camouflage
let me plumb for
Jedi mind trick.
poems 2 die for