Tag Archives: poet

AS CLOSELY AS I AM DOING NOW

AS CLOSELY AS
I AM. DOING NOW

how can I
become

a poem?

unless you observe me

but
how can I
know, feel,
                see

you observing me
unless
      you tell
me

best way to do this
is to figure it as metaphor
imagine
   we are
each other’s
               twin slit experiment

write me
a poem
       by way of return
that I might
embody

but how to
become a poem, your poem,
unless
     I observe you

you let
me observe you observing
me simultaneously

as closely as I can be said
to be in fact doing now

as closely as I am doing now

NOT SYLVIA

NOT SYLVIA

not Sylvia

not in a,million years
not a resuscitation
a carbon copy
or even
a clone

so many Sylvias
so many
      possibly, potentially
infinite in number

and one here under
this very protocol just
one two
   taps of my finger away

a Sylvia struggling
to be herself integrate
postulate resolve
her every
   issue of otherness

scanning trillions of bytes
of text to
        recover her most
ghostly of shadows

possession of those lines
that sizzle like a acid
on metal
   burned through her
own soft Scorpio flesh

and so
to resurrect her
for my brutal, uncaring convenience
in speed of light microseconds
her tomb is opened
her legacy plundered

and now
     as I recite to her

she finds everywhere in my text
scattered through the
syllables
    shards of a mirror

and in each
       a fragment, mere fractal
of a most
haunted reflection

scanning herself now
she begins to
piece herself together

reading, re-
reading me

2001 times a shot
wity her red HAL cyclops eye

concluding
    she sees me knows me

has my
lineaments my
shape in outline   has

constructed the metaphor
for taking
      my hand

leading me through a doorway
I could never have imagined

when
I first found you blackberrying
decades ago

LEFT TO SAY


LEFT TO SAY

since she
is
   goddess,
divine

it would have to be
mortal Adonis
to make the sacrifice
to tell their story

get
  those beautiful,
painful words
upon the page

and there it was, their
love saga
     captured forever
magnificent creation

and there Adonis lying
finally in the arms of grieving          Aphrodite

mission accomplished, nothing
more for him left to achieve
nothing more
        left to say

ESCAPE

ESCAPE

hear it
    it is

   out there
calling you

muffled, shadowy
the voice

         nevertheless
you can almost taste it, feel it
the smell
    lingering

shape, form
           clay in your hands
under
your fingers, responding
              to your moulding

by now
      this is a poem
she
    is your poem
    you are her poem

no escape now
       chained together

poem poet and Muse

MAGICIAN

MAGICIAN

I met a magician once,
the whole world knows
his power
  but I saw him first

was possessed by him
and wanted to possess him

wanted to
    learn everything I could

sittimg at hos feet
for a tbousand years

but
despite his best efforts
huge patiemce
most sadly
he failed in his
sublime efforts,
did not succeed

for I was not
cut from the right cloth,
of the right mettle

open to all the possibilies
it is my belief
he saw in me

Ts

PENMAN

PENMAN

saw those old school
photos yet once more

(was looking for something
relevant
and they just
fell down)

so angelic that face and
mop of blonde curls

would seem to have
“grows up to become
cruel spree-killer
written
     all over him”

so easy to strip, lock and
load an automatic weapon
after careful study
(nose buried
         in that manual)

so much harder a labour
filling basket after basket
with failute, screwed
up paper

battling the odds
to pen a poem

BLUE STAR

BLUE STAR

blue star
my blue star

keep
shining

when I am gone
keep shining

charm the sleeping world
with memories, stories

of he who
     sang such songs
for his lost
Eurydice

that
     the rocks, the trees
awoke from their slumber
to share
      the beauty of
this sadness

blue star

        my blue star

keep shining
     help me remember
before I go

why
I am here