CLEAR
on the farm
there are no rivers
there
is no sea
just a fence
that cows from
the next farm
sometimes
trample
down completely
and do
I scour the fields
looking for paper
need to draft a sign
of warning
to prohibit entry
write a letter
to someone
to
separate the sheep
from the goats
the sea
from the land
the real
from
the surreal
keep
boundaries clear
OF THE FITTEST
I like the way
you shot this scene
but what
does it mean
what does
it mean?
why this blocking, these
camera angles, this framing?
what does your cinematography
do for, what is it
doing to my poem?
so much you have to
surrender to reach
a wider audience
sacrifice gleefully, even
ecstatically,
for
your art
to
survive
JOE’S PEOPLE
Joe’s people put it out there:
the man
has the soul
of a poet
once wrote
a poem
or so the world
received it, rapturously,
myself I believe
the wit and wile
lies
buried thete
somewhere
though hardly
a poem
in my book
more a concerted attempt
at a daub; Rorschach blot
for the
dead in imagination
SEEN
saw a rapper
dissing the monster
at the heart
of the labyrinth
must have had
a tough skin
that minotaur
in order not
just to
survive that barrage
but to thrive
draft a contract
make a deal
get the sharpest royalty
agreement ever seen
SET APART
on the farm
so isolated
set apart
from everything;
absolutely
interconnected
AT LONG RANGE
poem
is
inside out
just
so happens to be
when you
frame it
in a certain way
it’s going
to start to appear
most upside-down
but
wearing this poem
out of range, at
long distance
hard for you
to see the target let
alone loose
a shot at all
and spooky Wolfgang
Pauli being
in the audience
actually, in the
very front row
plumb in the centre
not going to help
your echo location
in size
shape or
form
what with all those
quantum entanglements
and collapsed
wave-fronts
every
moment of delivery
makes me think then
dream of
standing before you
in an alternate universe
where without the
uncertainty of your
mode of
analysis, manner
of reception
there is no point
to this game at all
I
SHE
she
is a
pocket whirlwind
one drop
of her perfume
and tsunamis
reign
ate my heart once
then came
the audacity
to berate
its flavour
pure gut punch
and of how
it is all
put together
I have
said
nothing as yet
WITH APHRODITE
I held
a long interview with Aphrodite
peace
love
sex
these we touched upon
sinking ciders by the poolside
(wedge of lemon
jammed tightly into
the neck of the bottle)
in the course of which
frank and honest
and open-
ended discussion
the goddess revealed much
of her immortal self.
poems 2 die for