Tag Archives: poem

WAYSIDE

Not a doubt
my script is being written
by a severe Russian novelist

giving me really poor lines
a Dostoevsky life

this piece here
being pretty prime example

poem, if that’s what
you can call it
falling
quite by the wayside

and me
wandering through life
seemingly without an arc
let alone
driven by quest, on
pilgrimage

following
the flow (if flow it is) of
words
wherever they go,
wherever they take me

with what false promise,
fatal lure
ot gnosis, wisdom.
sublimation

revelation
that I am no one’s fool,
no one’s text,
no one’s flawed or
anti-
hero, character-whatever

puppet told
to prance
and then put back
in the box

ECLIPSE

got kissed
by an eclipse

full
on the lips

nothing sensual:
something industrial
about the sound
of those
suckers locking
or truly confrontational
like the clash
of contending blades

and you
in your headset
oblivious to my
life-and-death love battle

having zoned yourself out
of the untidy range
of all the ambient
swirling noise
and feedback

waiting for the light, the
total light taking
too long
about its dawning

waiting
for new
colours,
different darkness

still
same old old playing
play
rewind
play rewind
the

tunes of our time
tunes of our time