CHORD
I imagine
there is a script in my head
the page not yet in being
crying out for
birth by improvisation
wanting to go wherever
it wishes to go
meanwhile in the forest
Puck never foresaw King Crimson
never anticipated
the marriage
of Robert
and Toyah
Toyah and Robert
when these stories
tell themselves
they believe
brain states but pen dictates
something in the ether
flutes, strings or
maybe
an eerie mellotron
singing, cross-
pollinating
I don’t know
whence or why all this comes
flows first
like a trickle, then
a river flowing
through a capital city
but it comes
it comes
turns time to
its tune
and you
as always an inspiration
to me
serenading me silently
but inwardly I dance, have
no choice
but to
your body
raw rock and roll, incipient
heavy medal
your mind
Mingus, Davis jazz solo
your voice
the missing solution to
every unsolved ancient philosophical
problem
every genre
zone and miracle twist
in the plot, jaw
dropping moment
leaving no niche
left uncovered, hoard unfound
across that sweet topography
and every
molecule fibre
crying out, imploring you
to fuse
with my mythology
jump aboard my allegory
become my inner metaphor
in the confused progressions of this symphony
the very Devil’s chord lurking
I do believe
poems 2 die for 