PISCES
a deam world
compelled to follow
the logic of dream
and there
beneath the surface
great tectonic plates shifting
moving
battering up
against each other
the killer
physics of this
dwarfing us as
all is upturned
depth
is real
its fault lines clear
POEM IN STONE
prim village
but turn over
enough stones
shape shifters, Caesars,
serial-killers
and
at the tiny railway station
connecting nowhere
to everywhere
(all
roads lead to)
what slipped off
the rails
what
dark dreams?
(always a train
in a surrealist painting)
Oh and
there the tunnel
who knows
if there is light
if there
is other end?
something big
once stirred here
dared
a big net
to catch it
people remember, will
tell you,
people forget
what brought them here;
what took them hence
BACKSTAGE
I miss
my bonfire nights
Guy Fawkes
V for Vendetta
think I must be
a backstage ghost
martyred for my art
my belongings
my papers
all being
diced over
that every dissident of note
be hung and drawn,
thereafter quartered
taken by the State
to be
their God-
given right
and me imagining
the soft impact of
William Blake finding
his way
into Parliament
talking innocence and
experience
in his maiden speeches
subverted the empty
discourse of contract
and divime royal right.
BACK TO STEPPENWOLF
where have they all gone?
those magical theatres
maybe
they were thought so alien
had to be
smuggled off the planet
and so
nowhere
for that wolf to go
have to keep it
under wraps
test-tube bottled
like a inner worm
caged,
your inner tiger tiger
and there’s Mozart
beauty in his oratorios
but also secret code
and hard rock tar burning
up the highway
head out
of the window
should it not
get decapitated, your head
in that onrush of air
no greater
psychic blast
SHINE
“Speaking to me.
They wash and
tub and scrub.
Agenbite of inwit.”
James Joyce, “Ulysses”
are you
warm
warm
inside
full
of insight?
agenbite
got
your tongue?
cat-like your preen
sunlight making
your fur
(if you
had fur) warm
as toast
questions to ask
before quietus
perhaps it fades
perhaps it
annihilates in
a gathering of stars
on the pavement
in your own
backyard
too little light
but now
all the suns
thought it was a summit
but it was
the sum
of all spectacle
STILL SPEAKS
dead inside
but a voice still speaks
leaks out stuff
dribbles
of delight
you might
laugh at, work with,
see
how hard it is
for things
to crystallize
one perfect line per
every
waste
basket life
FABULOUS
if you
are so fabulous
as wonderful
as you say
where
is the wonder?
where are
the fables?
where is the story
that is going to
change my landscape
shift my reality
grip me
grab me
for the rest
of my life?
I catch you sleeping
that very sight
transformative
beneath small, square-
shaped purple blanket
looking
Roman imperial, totally
submerged
and here I am outside
looking in
who knows what
impassable fence my
face pressed up against
who knows
what ultimate, legendary barrier
and on
that shrouded face
what dreams come
strong enough
to leave
some imprint, make
ground-breaking impression?
and so it is
between us
so much spoken
yet everything hidden
deep
beneath the choppy surface
of that text
true leviathans
denizens of the fabulous
most certain to appear
AND THE BASICS
and the basis
for my argument
why I am
taking pains
to argue thus
is the car
in my garage
the flowers
in my front garden
all the family
pictures that adorn my walls
the keys in my pocket
and everything
they open
beyond which
nothing really
of substance at all
GENERAL DIRECTION
my nose, proverbially,
close to the ground
keeping me grounded
blown by
the wind
chasing the Sun
I wandered around the farm
remembering my Hobbes’
theme of the brutish and short
life without sovereign authority
implicit social contract
recalling my Plato notion
of the ethical and philosophical
supremacy of
his ruling class
somehow I
slunk back into my idealism
thought
should stick
with democracy on
(on this hallowed day
of election)
choose
Dionysus above Apollo this
and every day
not to speak of those first
communities of the faith
before
religion got Roman
this issue
of the State
will twist you every
which way
from
state of being, to
highest states imaginable
to Empires of suffering
that we all know too well
from YouTube and TikTok
and old apartheid memories
so much in
this mindset still
needs exorcism I guess
but the green of the farm
so gleeful, intense
after this sudden splurge
of rainfall
everything gaining height
growing (forgive my
ethnocentrism) out
of its socks
gaining height, accumulating mass
giving my theme here
weight
sudden addition of
gravity
as is the general direction
(for this stage
at least
whilst
time decrees it last)
KINDNESS
I found some robot’s
alomg the roadside
hanging around
the corner
doing thd things
that robots do
and so I spruced them up
forged them into an army
let them
loose on the world
since the world
loves war
figured that this
was the kindest thing
I could possibly do
and perhaps,
in the process,
make an honest buck.
poems 2 die for