FILL
poem would
not come to me
do its sure sell
soft shoe shuffle
open
a window afford
glimpse
of its tricks
said I
lacked
the appreciation
was far too driven
for anything
to
nestle, rest
fill that grievous hole
in my disposition,
cement
my understanding
these basic
words having
so much
to discover
not to
mention
(by way
of footnote) seren-
dipitously gain
THEY
they papered over the cracks
until there was only paper
the whole wall
was wallpaper
steadily depreciating
but as of now
worth a ton
but so much
focus on the paper
we were told
to forget about doors
forget about windows
forget about foundation
forget
about structure
and then
they wrapped all
our joys in
smothering, swaddling paper
killing them off
telling us
out with
the old in
with the new
and loss of our joys
pleasures and
freedoms
part of the
new beauty
wealth of
our trajectory
purpose of life reconceived for all
neatly packaged
for death to
receive them
how many without love
like me
without love
far too
late for me
to love them now
neatly packaged
for death
to show them
love is a thing
one can live without
DEAD ISLAND
Oh something sank
in the history channel
something sank
having run aground
for our part
we floated nonchalantly
around that dead island
all those high tales, great fables,
dead as the stone
of a cenotaph to me
Oh spectral place
and yet
the juries are still out
it is conceivably not death
but a morbid moribundity
that plagues this place
fed its viral rage
a flag burned
not the whole fabric but
just a few cigarette holes skewered
right through it
as apocalypses go
it is like a half-wit
smothered, a
candle snuffed
the air
heavy with phosphates, nothing yet
so sulphurous
stared down to find the bottom of the tide
but there
not a live fish swam;
nothing
swims in this.
BROKE-ASS
came across a broke-ass poet
sort of all medieval minstrally meandering around
strange how the Carolingans also had their surrealists
just didn’t know it
thought that search for artistic holy grail
the most dubious pilgrimage,
most apeshit quest
of them all
and you have to be careful
in an age of belief
you cannot shake off
full-throttle God-rollicking
divine diss from place most
high
you are not going to come back from
recovering in sanatorium
placed
on injured reserve
but
here
in our age of sidetrack
no one
gonna get
allow themselves to get
railroaded
so hopelessly
find themselves suddenly cast up on desert shore
fate worse
than turning bankrupt
becoming the thing
your father’s whole being was
so well protected against
and yet
my dear saint, so grievously arrowed,
a smattering of suffering (dint
of raw chaos)
might just do the trick
to shoot you
to Olympus for
(statue, no statue) sweet consultation with Apollo
DRAGON FLY
DRAGON FLY
dragonfly came through the window
buzzed up a storm
behind the curtain
was messenger loaded with
heavy-caliber symbolic
and spiritual meanings
great significance for the
course life would take
but Damian missed this
stuck a whole different category
of special messenger revelation
searching the net to find
confirmation
that the semiotics of
such insects means
the Niners will be
buzzing down
in Arizona
putting things right which
went
awry
twice before
AND IMAGINARY
The women in my room
are unreal and imaginary
we spend time
drawing invisible Venn diagrams
all across the floor
in this world, unlike this
supposedly real one
(which is,
of course,
bullshit)
the gratification comes easy
is intense
and profound.
Have no idea
how much air
it has sucked
how it is going to
pay for itself
who is
going to to pay
for these lines:
the good lines
the bad lines
and the ones so
downright
ugly
say such
unfriendly, inhospitable things
ripping the fabric
rocking the foundations
astonishing that we be asked
to support such
outpourings.
poems 2 die for