CERN
the more we investigate
the hypothetical
at near enough the speed of
light
we smash our
best guesses together
the more we
tinker
with
the big picture tell
the Universe with us
without us
things could get so
otherwise
something flip
that smile, get up to
much mischief
between
the lines, off
the beaten tracks
change us a billion times
before we
have
finished breakfast
legislate
instantaneous difference
or (ace up
sleeve) shuffle
the pack
to play the knave
of strangelets
ultimate flush to clear out
all that has been damned to
be too
rough around the edges
****
MR CROWE RANSOM’S PIAZZA PIECE
Suddenly
a spectral sonnet here
of ghosts and
lost causes
shades of gray and
more than a touch of butternut
what karma is this
paid for the storming/defending
ridges not for rights but
for denial of humanity
and those flags
with too few stars
where we are now
has stripped them of their charm,
of their romance
we see them
for what they were
no wedding here for any
skeletal stranger, the divorce
brought before
that courthouse
(yes, General you
might keep your sword)
biding its
time
biding it’s time, has
counted every
drop of blood,
cannot accept whatever
protestations of love
remedies
for healing
that dream, young in beauty
once now
faded to a whisper
battle after battle fought
in this war
after which what
re-negotiation of the real.
****
THESE GARDENS
These gardens, good and
evil alike (evil and good
interfused)
used to produce
fabulous fruit, magnificent
plants, insane flowers
no where more deadly,
than where overflowing,
running rampant
with life
but now
a strict, neat horticultural,
everything within bounds
tightly circumscribed
no place for emblem;
still less for bower
and explicit restriction
against these seeds you
see here
who knows what witchcraft
wizardry they might engender
a rose (red/white) with
sickle thorns to scythe,
what was tiny
(meant so to be)
rising in
the strength of forests
presuming to claw the clouds
