AND THE LOVE

AND THE LOVE

I was listening
to Santana
and you
just walked on by

shouted out to you
but no words came out
was no sound
   or you elected
not to hear

or maybe
I just whispered
   all I had courage for
best I could
do
   all I could muster

truth is the heart of me
someone close
         an everyday someone
cut
   it out

and you were just
beauty’s archetype
by look
by name

a mirage, thing
off the silver screen, a
biblical queen

and me
       somewhere in the desert
all those years

where you
    called me, found me

shared
a word
       and left

I was listening to Santana
connecting the world
                            world
which will
            end

eternal it is however
                sadness, joy

and the love

LOVE DUST

LOVE DUST

came across
a speck of love
dust
    in the Universe

travelling at, near,
or beyond
the speed
of light

in slowed down
approaching Earth

like the alien
mother ship
in Independence Day

which became an issue
of global security
national concerm

world waiting with baited breath
praying it would
burn up
    in the Earth’s atmosphere

failing which
there is always the
nuclear option

deflect the trajectory
or vaporize entirely

for if that speck of love
should touch anything human

could go extreme viral
wreck our civilization
the one we have spent
decades
     building and
re-building

love bringing
the extinction
            of all we love

SYSTEM

SYSTEM

and now I find
and now I find

gymnast and
syntagm
     are so intimate

anagrams
of each other

spooky action
     at linguistic distance

but what do I know
of such unique connection

all my lovers
        ghostly, some
actual ghosts

the dust of all
    that was desire questioning
my stridence

gives the idea
     puts me on notice

that it is
                   all simulation

and when you undress before me
in name only

getting the sweet syntax
     up and running

see what you are up to here
Mr Shakespeare or
Earl
    of Oxford

whatever you wish to go by
privately call yourself

spilling from Juliet’s lips
the philosopical truth of
                    a true rose

even if
a thousand years of cynicism
scepticism stands in its way

when you
        go inexplicable mystery
and wrap yourself around me

making us (yes, channeling you
Professor Noam Chomsky)
branches, leaves
       upon the same tree

graft taking
      we can grow now together

happy
     (who would not be) though
this all
     feels pre-planned: our
perfect simulation

BEYOND (YOUR) EMBRACE

BEYOND (YOUR) EMBRACE no melding tonite your mind closing like an anxious wound infection, infiltration, metaphors of sickness seep still into the body politic have done so, I am afraid, since the beginning of time but the risk, you tell me, the danger sheer danger of reaching out whatever the payoff, whatever heaven in that yield risk run (you calculate) is catastrophic better to err on the side of hate

OF BELIEF

OF BELIEF Thought I should write love poem to (and for) the world but it probably will not end how I think it should how i wanted it to thos is the issue with creation never turns out how you hoped or thought and there is no going back to the drawing board Oh the architecture happening right now in my brain, my head, lying naked on the bed in my tiny house on this farm curtains closed lights left off (even if out of loadshedding but a moment before) imagining I could just rachet up the sensitivity and feel the flowers grow hear them breathe and talking (thinking) of nakedness, my dear, is yours not overdue? but hold that thought even worse news from the Middle East streaming in pictures of Dantesque horror words of insanity, of satirical vulnerability everything up to the max pushed to extremes (not what Aristotle was thinking what he figured on teleology would derail poor Socrates in his project of self-knowledge and moral sphere) things here so naked, exposed in all their ugliness (by every metric) bleak intensity things the world of the farm would not believe and so naked as I am speaking to you calling out to you wondering what your good self might make good or best and even better in whatever illogical gradation fullness of our together might sway the nature of belief.