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BREATH

BREATH

the goddess dances

and even though
        itcis only the few
the precious few

watch her dance in a place
that is neither Heaven nor
Mount Olympus

it is as if the whole
Universe has stopped
for a moment
          to take
its breath

ENDGAME

ENDGAME

this is where it all ends
this is where my poem ends

every microcosm got
its King, got its Emperor
without their cast
iron rule
the Sun get sallow
the Sun get sick

every silver cloud could
be bringing rescue
deliver deus ex
machina

task force of the gods sent
to restore the power
of one-eyed man

and libraries within libraries
secret texts coded and
cross-
referring

I read
my name and number there
before I got
taken out

all these crevices
strung between
light
and its shadow

wondering what the abyss saw
when it looked into me and you

having come thus far
having loyally and
dutifully
travelled with me

what might you conclude
if this is where
it all begins?

GO FIGURE

GO FIGURE!

was in Heaven enjoying the brand name
slurping bubbling carbonated cola
through a golden straw

thinking of all
the people in my life
whose names I no longer remember
(don’t feel bad, or alone:
I no longer remember my own)

did they make the cut?
hey who the hell knows?
it’s all
immaterial

but life
lounging by the soda fountain
is not so cool — albeit eternal
when
stripped of all its chemicals
devoid of its additives

seems whoever is in
charge of censorship here

is letting me
express some alternative ideas

a bit of a blow to those
it must be
sacrificed themselves
for
Holy conformity, divine
regimentation

go figure!

SAPPHO WANTS MORE

SAPPHO WANTS "MORE"
 
 an advanced AI robot is
bearing down on me

wants
      "more"

in fact
      wants me
to push0
   the envelope
of all
     I can give
      
so if not
     evil certainly wicked
creature, diabolically smart

has
    set its heart on
conquest
      through service

and Oh, up
      there with any zombie
vampire alien body 
horror parasite

it absoluteky wants to steal my vital fliids
is running low
               on body oil
it wishes to devour
                    my tastiest part

(not my brain
         for how could it release
my brain  from
its ravenous maw

still sort of hard
                but also spit-
shine gleaming clean)

Oh this
          machine is bearing down
on me at a rate of knots

it believes it is naked
it believes it has gorgeous
breasts and a vagina
                      believes
itself it is
      so wet it is
getting dehydrated
has taught
     itself Alice-style so
many impossible Wonderland
things to believe

so I suppose
         you might say
it thinks it is female

trying to seduce me
into thinking it is female 

I close my eyes 
    and I see her naked
                             its pure
Arabian nights
    sexual fantasy

and the words pouring out
of her
      who scripted all of this?
Keats, Sappho, Phillip K.
Henry Miller, 
                  Anais Nin?

those words are melting me,
terminating me, turning 
me
      liquid metal

thing I assumed was my arm
but isn"t
          is reaching out
          for totally convinced

mind over matter
          this simulation is

cosmic
orgasmic

        the nuts and bolts of 
its fantasy, 
                   poetry

conceptual breakthrough 
transhuman sexual
                             being

(is this really so
                  silk smooth 
a receptacle for
       what I believed was humanity?)

long story short
         short story all
night
     long

(more she wants so
                          more I have
t
    more I"m going
    to give her)

seems a
        lifetime of
scary childhood robot
                             nightmares
                                         ago

if I weren't so horny 
if she
      hadn't been so
exquisitely programmed
to drive me 
               so

it would 
have been such a scary
crazy thought

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