T (TO PERFECTION)
don’t want to see
him
have you for tea
know you
to a T
measure you
exacTly
find you wanting
leave you
wanting
wearing my mad hatter’s hat
skyscraper top hat
am going to
invite myself to
that cream
and buns party
see how many tiny mice
get stuffed into
that teapot
until, with
absolute aplomb,
time is called on
that sad
stale old joke
forever recurring, such
crucial, critical distance
between its
sweeiness of promise
and hap-
handed execution
FOLLOWED
followed Jacques Derrida
down a rabbit hole
seriously
name-dropping all the way
saw Slavoj Zizek
and all his twin twizzle
and tweedle brothers
who asked how I could
have been so sure
that down was the direction
I was heading
when, counter
intuitively, up might
equally
make perfect sense
and I
might be twin too
Moon cavorting on the lunar surface
doing sibling-style stuff
with young
Castor and Pollux
and other twin
who penned that tune
I am the Walrus and Richard and
Karen
in such seemingly
beautiful harmony
Oh you cannot
put a cat in a box
and have any kind of certainty
you cannot come up with truths
you can always reconnect
the very land we stand on
slipping and sliding
so slippery-slidey
what
we have before us here
(not referring to the tea party)
so different
from what I was thinking, what
expected, and
what I almost fancied
I was destined to express
poems 2 die for