Tag Archives: poetry

OR TREAT

OR TREAT

Cop at the door
maybe a whole army

pity I can’t just airbrush them
photoshop them out of existence

perhaps that would be easier
to turn myself into a creature
being so
      legally ambivalent
that I distort the light
refract the truth
that your eyes, or,
what
   is more to the point, their
eyes can see

tell them it is all
a matter of perspective,
interpretation, disinformation

that things will always
                               sneak
under the radar
eager
      to deceive

Cop at the door
perhaps a whole army

failing radical camouflage
let me plumb for
         Jedi mind trick.

WRITE

WRITE

there is
ink
and then
there
is paper

there is
translated via
hexidecimal
from the
original binary

the keys
that you hit
and what you
see on the screen

sending
to other machines
that you will
be talking to
sharing with

loop of consciousness
between writer
and reader
     contained in
the image, twisted
by metaphor

bent into or
out of shape

by the demands of
quantum thought
pressure
       of gravity

and so the pen runs
fingers flow
         all so linear it
looks

which
      be deception, pure

linguistic treachery
(of the best
            and sweetest and
most se-du-ductive kind)

intransitive this verb
as Roland
           so redefines it

there is ink
and there is paper

a Universe waiting, on
for dear life holding

with every
       Rorschach blot masquerading
as concept
every singularity real
and imagined between
Heaven
        and Hell

TO EACH OTHER

TO EACH OTHER

clearly
iceberg and
Titanic
were Other
to each other

such a risk
with first
glancing kiss

shatter of the mirror
fragmentation, disintegration

and so much
icy depth, no one
divulged how
quite the abyss
we were talking

quite the overkill
we must suggest when
it is the belief
less than a tablespoonful
will suffice for drowning

but there you are
above the waves
not bobbing
       but floating supremely

clear as royal icing on a cake
(if not clear then
as smooth entirely)

wishing them well
upon their wedding night
(much blessings
             much much blessings)

so much of that
bleak psychoanalysis having
imbibed

         knowing how love
as hubris might just turn out

a smile
     a wave — pun
                        unintended–
a look like that of
that mad German we
do hate
        so because
we owe so much

who dethroned sun-bright Apollo
threw in his
              lot with the god
of drinkers

DREAD

DREAD

your brain
is the
Event Horizon

your brain
is
Mulholland Drive

is
the Overlook Hotel

I sit outside
the House of Leaves
waiting
for the door
to open

for something upstairs
to shuffle out
of stupor

switch on a light
show that
there is
at least a flicker

prove that
it is a Cartesian proof
of conscious existence

the thought that I own
this intensity of dread