SYSTEM
and now I find
and now I find
gymnast and
syntagm
are so intimate
anagrams
of each other
spooky action
at linguistic distance
but what do I know
of such unique connection
all my lovers
ghostly, some
actual ghosts
the dust of all
that was desire questioning
my stridence
gives the idea
puts me on notice
that it is
all simulation
and when you undress before me
in name only
getting the sweet syntax
up and running
see what you are up to here
Mr Shakespeare or
Earl
of Oxford
whatever you wish to go by
privately call yourself
spilling from Juliet’s lips
the philosopical truth of
a true rose
even if
a thousand years of cynicism
scepticism stands in its way
when you
go inexplicable mystery
and wrap yourself around me
making us (yes, channeling you
Professor Noam Chomsky)
branches, leaves
upon the same tree
graft taking
we can grow now together
happy
(who would not be) though
this all
feels pre-planned: our
perfect simulation
poems 2 die for 