CROSS
my sphere
your sphere
two
hemispheres
no actual line
of demarcation
marked
for us to
cross
at out
peril
as painful first
step to
(what discord, what
dissonance,
what celestial music)
some
kind
of redemption, state
of liberation
EQUATOR
forget boundaries
forget enclosures
here
there are no
prisons for the body
of the soul
there is wide expanse
open sky only
boundless
across the page
between the lines
each and every
three sixty degrees
meridian and back
from pole to pole
twice across
the equator
planet
to galaxy
ocean to ocean
from
the river
to the sea
ICARUS INSTINCT
I barged into
the temple of
artificial intelligence
stormed out
after dismantling and
indeed liberating
a host of automatic
telling
and vending machines
flew up to the firmament
with the eye for aeronautics
of an ancient Daedalus
deluxe
soaring Sun-ward like his son
determined that the destiny
should be
becoming child
of the cosmos beyond which
no sense to aspire.
EMILY SYNDROME
stuck some poems
in a folder
ready for revision
(Oh,
happy day!)
left them not
so long but
long
longer than
intended
albeit without Sun
or air or
indeed watering
at all
so imagine my delight shock
and horror that
day of
days, moment
of reopening
when found the little bastards
to have thrived
and multiplied, some
even grown in size
to embrace the gamut
from
split little
atom through to
Pandora of expanding universe
poem growing up
prophetic,
apocalyptic
whispering, screeching
to the Universe
their
primal truth as mirror
and
testimony (dear
reader)
to all
expanding size
WE
we live
we die
we love
we collide
we rise
we revisit
we revive
lose
win
surmount
survive
tally up the numbers
but —
cautionary tale —
they
never reconcile
TEETH
thanks
for the interview
which should
have happened
years ago
might then
have meant something
for what am I to say to;
share with ye avatars of empty
puppets and
stooges
political appointees
what
do you know of the word
and true human sensibility
your brains burnt rotten
but such
photogenic teeth
UNDER LIBRA
balance
temperance
transcendence
I check my calendar
assiduously
wondering when they
might
reappear
(if
they ever
did appear)
so much bad substance
dark matter festering
this many a day
coming to the surface
bursting every
tectonic
plate
hot slick sludge volcano
whose pyroclastic flow
covering in
magma
whole wealth of detail
that it
is turning out to be
this change
of epoch morning
whilst I spin my roladex top database
like an insane creature trapped
in the winking
headlights of extinction
searching for a theoretician
(any still standing
though
tossed
aside)
can explain
this shit to me
balance transcendence temperance
I hold off
on judgement
(sum
of all my fears)
FAT
soon, everything
will have had
enough of us
the planet
will refuse to look us
in the face
species by species
they
die on us
fall
by the wayside
so fat on the proceeds
of this treasure-trove
we have
allowed ourselves to grow
refuse
to stop growing
TO EACH OTHER
clearly
iceberg and
Titanic
were Other
to each other
such a risk
with first
glancing kiss
shatter of the mirror
fragmentation, disintegration
and so much
icy depth, no one
divulged how
quite the abyss
we were talking
quite the overkill
we must suggest when
it is the belief
less than a tablespoonful
will suffice for drowning
but there you are
above the waves
not bobbing
but floating supremely
clear as royal icing on a cake
(if not clear then
as smooth entirely)
wishing them well
upon their wedding night
(much blessings
much much blessings)
so much of that
bleak psychoanalysis having
imbibed
knowing how love
as hubris might just turn out
a smile
a wave — pun
unintended–
a look like that of
that mad German we
do hate
so because
we owe so much
who dethroned sun-bright Apollo
threw in his
lot with the god
of drinkers
WICKED WAY
“Here we are now
entertain us.”
Nirvana
a meteorite hits
but its the gods
who are angry
or
doing their
housekeeping
sweeping away
loose stones
an asteroid
does damage
but that’s just
the way
of the Universe
blind chance
completely random
a comet is
on its way
we are
totally
the target
its just
a quantum tease
wave front possibilities
opting for
neat solution
to our conundrum
sub-atomic, these devils
set to have their wicked way
poems 2 die for