
HEAVENLY


(MORE) FOOL YOU
may
seem like
think me
the fool
but
it just
a ruse
got so
much danger
about me
got to
travel incognito
or shapeshift
too and fro
back
and forward
in the blink
of am eye
one second you
canoodling
with tje Queen
of Cups;
the next
King of Swords
got sabre swishing
an imch from
your eye
but no fear
no worries, not
here
to let you die
when can do
deepet damage
deploy
more potent powers
ride
like death across your
inner landscape
unhinging all those
towers that
so
need to fall
for the good of us all
Sun card, Star card
and the
World
hete in choir
arcana of consensus
CEILING
nothing Sistine
about my ceiling
just plain off-white,
not sure whether
the paint they used
would count
as matt
or gloss
tradesman’s work, not
a hint here of Renaissance genius
and then the light fitting
hard to see a noted design style
at play here
and this the ceiling
through which
my soul must no doubt
travel to meet
my God
for which I believe
it will have to serve,
will serve well
staring at the ceiling
as night descends
just
a trick of the light all
that it might take
to set me off
soaring
no g force attendant on
this acceleration
all just
practice
to
test my engines
fins and wings
missile myself mentally
running through all
that is
required
practice making perfect
as every evening at dusk
I put
myself through the motions
prepare
for the real thing with
every single
imaginary run


MONSTER
the monster
has no poetry
no mirror
in.which to
see itself
as it truly is
jist murdee
which it sings
as its songs,
its advertizing
jungles;
do not expect
me to
elegize,
lamemt the monster
when it is gone
NORM
Norm speaks
slowly
takes
his time
guess it wouldn’t
make sense
for the voice
of truth
and justice
to go racing car
every syllable
pages of reference
legions of footnotes
underpinning
the logic of a bulldozer
when he gets into gear
when he swats your
feeble premises aside
with such ease
how did you even
fool yourself
you had any chance
that the fairy tale
you tell
comic that
you are
might stand its ground?
ONE AND ONLY
imagine
you are one
moment
naked in
the street
in Hamburg
the one before
in Strawberry Fields
with Yoko
the next
being introduced to
Paul
the next being blown
away by a jealous soul
with a snub-
nosed special
imagine a
world become
so non-linear
everything you are and were
revolving forever on a carousel
imagine that you
are
have become
none other
than
Mr Sergeant Pepper’s
one and
only Billy Shears
BUTTONED
slippery slope
one Hell of
a logical fallacy
not sure I buy that
he said as
poles reversed
and all
went vertigo
over a bad word
and the terrible, Earth-
shattering damage — go
figure! — it cannot
be allowed
to do
but she is erudite, and
in the New Yorker, no less,
she has
made her case
but elegance is an achievement
will not stand
up to deconstruction
your cracks and crevices
are there
for the taking
rhetorical figures interrogated
made to stand on their heads
and here you are
touting the danger
of weapons of mass destruction
but throwing
your own little not so
weak hand grenade
into the mix
thing that democracy, humanity
can well do without adding
to their wounds, their woes
at this particular juncture
useful idioting yourself with
stylistic flourish so spectacular
finding yourself
(yet again) on these pages
grown
synonym
for suspect
nice little diversion from
the calamity to the very
concept and
its understanding, of
civilization
with every blind moment of
pure slaughter via
two thousand pound bomb
testament to
our world, new
reality no
sooner than lips
first got buttoned up
PEEL
I watch you
peel
wondering if this be
a whole new being
or at least a new species
I would touch you
but that might produce
an intensity
at which flesh dissolves
or, at the bare minimum, a
moment beyond
our capabilities where
we hurt each
othes’ feelings
.
perhaps
(but no quid
pro quo) I should
peel too or
simply
stand before you
as yet unpeeled
or stretch out in a tableau
of tender vulnerability
peeled of everything
extraneous and
at the
heart of my need
what
is the worst that could happen?
best and worst
beyond my wildest imagination.