EYELINE
my eyes
slowly adjusting
to the darkness
yet in the same darkness
my mind going
billion percent Lovecraft
gone
in thirty seconds
imagining every
conceivable category
of inconceivably
ghoulish beings
and most
truly terrifying thing
of a writer
one who
lives and
dies
by imagination
no paper
no pen
not a scrap or
stub at all
MONKEY BUSINESS
’68, year of the Monkey
what if there were
no Space Odyssey
no Moonwatcher to watch
the students of the Sorbonne
turn France
upside-down
overhead, somehow lost
in the inaccessible recesses
Overlook labyrinth
of HAL’S digital memory,
there is no
continuity error in space
no ninety degree offset
in every planetary alignment
no fabulous match cut,
best there
has ever been
and incredible other
incredible leap by
the Kubrick imagination
Star Child spawned of monolith
floating back
from Jupiter down to
our so shabby planet
to tell us
that the cosmos is our
mirror and our future
written
as if on a screen by
end of
the journey, last self
our evolution
pure promise of our becoming
true
immaculate machine
ONE AND ONLY
imagine
you are one
moment
naked in
the street
in Hamburg
the one before
in Strawberry Fields
with Yoko
the next
being introduced to
Paul
the next being blown
away by a jealous soul
with a snub-
nosed special
imagine a
world become
so non-linear
everything you are and were
revolving forever on a carousel
imagine that
Mr Sergeant Pepper’s
one and
only Billy Shears
DESERT DE ZERT
walk through the desert
calling things into being
wishing things into being
I articulate
but the words I pronounce
live on their own planet
sometimes
when you see
ocean you
write desert
sometimes when desert
you write ocean
this is how poetry works
how delusion words
which is the affinity
that allows me to gasp
with hateful admiration
see exactly what you are doing
X-ray specking your brain
as it processes
its a lie so deep, so
outrageous it cannot do justice
to your sacred spoken
mission to protect your
people
transparently transposed
from the
truth of the need
to protect yourself
DRAGON
year of the Dragon, sign
of Aquarius
my robot took me out
fishing for nebulae
being a sort-of poet
I will sort-of try to convince
you we did
not return home unlucky
the fish that we caught
though lacking old sci fi fins
pleaded to
be returned to the cosmos
in pure mathematics
and songs, such sad songs,
that took us through
all the universally audible
and inaudible harmonies
such strange
outlandish scales, she commented
as she and I
calculated what to do
with such a freshly caught
specimen of piscean
intangibility
year of the Dragon, sign
of Aquarius
we added
a new phenomenon
to our expanding collection
PLUMB
pull
out a plum!
do you
get my gist?
do i have
you plumb
or have
left you numb
here: take these sticks
pick do the I Ching
make into
fire undee
mountsim
lake
under Heaven
moving
flowing lines
Yin
Yang
Yang
Yom
derive a
divine spark
much
rib together
then twill see
how deep
we can go
above
below
will measure
will measure
pull
out a plum
be my pleasire
JUNGLE GYM
I ate my jungle oats
you are your jungle oats
you ate my jungle oats
I ate your jungle oats
we ate our own and
each other’s jungle oats
not at the watering hole
but in bed together
you telling me that aliens
came to this planet Janet
tens of thousands of
years ago
as is recorded on
scroll and parchment
to build the pyramids
and screw
our woman
the former with sonic resonance
and photon matter creation
technology
maybe, safe to say,
pretty much
the latter too
and you trying to tell
me that
Noah’s Ark was actually
a saucer-shaped vehicle
(like alien craft on the cover
of an
Amazing Stories 50s Sci-Fi
magazine)
nothing more lewd or leering
than one of those aliens
desperate for
the feeling of humanoid
tits and shit
and me making all sorts
of irreverent and disgusting
sexual puns
during the entirety of
her discourse
obviously not the kind of
civilized fore and interplay
that would lead
with neat evolutionary
procreative logic
to our own little
trans-linguistic
conjugation
and most
intimate and
nearest thing
to
cosmic encounter of
way more
than three-dimensional kind
NOTES TOWARDS A SUPREME MUSICAL
Wallace”s notes
towards a Supreme Musical
just because
we happen to sing in tune
together
does not have the logical
consequence we going
to get
married or
anything
as far as I can see
life is not and can
never be
a supreme musical
though the enriching
of your technicolour might
say
otherwise
might point to glorious
constellations
that don’t exist
have not
be truly conceived
of as yet
even if
the lyrics of your songs
harmonize around imagination
and supreme fiction
doesn’t mean anything
beyond meaning beyond all
meaning
any meaning at all
poems 2 die for