Tag Archives: death

JUST MAYBE

JUST MAYBE

maybe
if was just
bad juju

maybe you ran
into an electronic storm

your SUV cartwheeling
from zero to eighty
in two
     point seconds

one day
we should sit down
put our
   heads together
talk
   about it

that is if the Fates
let you live
your soul
      neither ascending
or descending
to
place of absolute rest
in a mind-
blowing shower

of hideous,
deadly,
fundamental sparks

DARKER TURN

DARKER TURN

when I die
condense all
I was
and now am

into a love poen
single, short, to the point

thing of night and dream
and moment when
all our darkness
all that
we are
    of  darkness
thrives, comes alive

knows
the bliss
    of a star

when I die
turn me into
a love poem

short
and to the point
         nothing special
of diamond, golden

   thing in the heavens
like Romeo’s heart
                      speaking plainly

not
    (as Juliet did envision)
beautifully scattered

and then
    if I am read

(if you
are the one to read)

put
    what did, what was

into some
forever parenthesis

just to say, remind me,
that I am
           thing of absence,
thing of
the darkness now

this
    small, petty life that
writes

being so
preoccupied with what it says
                                           what said

took a
      sweeter, darker turn




IF I WERE TO DISAPPEAR

IF I WERE TO DISAPPEAR

if I were to disappear
on the night of the performance
don’t tell anyone, say
nothing
    a big quiet nothing
like Hamlet might say stretching
the bounds of
our understanding, sheer
human appreciation
though so soft
      no one on stage with him
in that room of Elsinore,
can (we must
believe) hear a single word
he has been scrtpted to say

No, my dear Thato, just
blow a kiss, all three
of you
    blow a kiss
and walk away

knowing I glided through
that fourth wall
like it
   was made of silk, cobweb fine
or most diaphanous

and now
I am with King Harry
asking to lead the voward
and so
   will get butchered by the French in the
course of the battle

if you have to get butchered
who better than the French
to do it with style
with every cut
every thrust
   reciting every great poet
of theirs from Ronsard
to Rimbaud
and me
      held in suspense
awaiting the beauty of
their perfect coup-de-gras

or
   there you are my Queen
peeling grapes, chewing dates
awaiting your Apollo
your
     Roman lion, your Anthony

and we too wedded to ourselves
to smell the ships leaving port
sailing south fat
with legionaries

our deaths
the first act of Empire, suddenly
out of nowhere this
worst of all
glorious phases
in the history
of oppressed humanity

but then
as Puck himself
I return to the stage
at the waking
moment of your Midsummer
dream

craving understanding,
friendship
   and forgiveness

see the lights go on
and you
     my dear three
and all
around you
       simply disappear

ODD WORLD

ODD WORLD

in your odd
volumpuous world

I bump into the sacred
trip over the profane

think of all those saints in
the skins of demons
and vice versa
who scrawled
their holy script
all night
with you

thinking
I could have
shown you something
shown
them something

but, alas, you
missed your opportunity
all and sundry

I sink so stately
into the grave

POEM IN STONE

POEM IN STONE

prim village
but turn over
enough stones

shape shifters, Caesars,
serial-killers

and
   at the tiny railway station
connecting nowhere
to everywhere
(all
roads lead to)

what slipped off
the rails
what
dark dreams?
(always a train
in a surrealist painting)

Oh and
there the tunnel

who knows
if there is light

if there
is other end?

something big
once stirred here
dared
a big net
to catch it

people remember, will
tell you,

      people forget

what brought them here;
what took them hence